)  Pre, 

J>  Dab 
No.*. 


Si:n 
books  i 

If  any 
lie  -ha. 
three  tu 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

The  California  atate 
Library 


me  mereoi 


_i-ter  of  all 
ihers  of  the 
the  session, 
he  Library, 
he  Library. 
ana  oetore  the  Controller  shah  issue  his 


warrant  in  f'avur  o"  any  member  or  officer  of  the  Legislature,  or  of  this 
Stale,  fur  his  per  diem,  allowance,  or  salary,  he  shall  be  satisfied  that 
such  member  or  officer  has  returned  all  books  taken  out  of  the  Library  by 
him,  and  has  settled  all  accounts  for  injuring  such  book,--,  or  otherwise. 

SEC.  15.  Books  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  the  members  of  the 
Legislature  and  its  officers  during  the  session  of  the  same,  and  at  anv 
time  by  the  (luvernor  and  the  officers  of  the  Executive  Department  of 
this  Slate  who  arc  required  to  keep  their  offices  at  the  scat  of  government, 
the  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  Attorney-General  and  the  Tru 
of  the  Library. 


COLLEGE 


' 


FRED.-W.    LORING. 


ACTHOB   OF   THE    "BOSTON   DIP    A2O>   OTHEU    VEB8E8." 


G,    Publisher, 

COB.  BROMFIELD  AND  WASHINGTON  STS., 
BOSTON. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871, 

BY    A.    K.    LORIXG, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  "Washington. 


Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Rockwell  &  Churchill,  Boston. 


L&«M  t 

PREFACE  AND  DEDICATION. 


MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  — 

Indignation  at  my  dedicating  this  book  to  you  will  be 
useless,  since  I  am  at  present  three  thousand  miles  out  of 
your  reach.  Moreover,  this  dedication  is  not  intended  as 
a  public  monument  to  our  friendship ;  —  I  know  too  much 
for  that.  If  that  were  the  case,  we  should  manage  to 
quarrel  even  at  this  distance,  I  am  quite  confident,  before 
the  proof-sheets  had  left  the  press.  But  I  can  dedicate  it 
to  you  alone  of  all  my  college  friends,  because  you  and  I 
were  brought  so  especially  into  the  atmosphere  of  the  man 
who  inspired  me  to  undertake  it,  —  the  man  to  whom,  under 
God,  I  shall  owe  most  of  what  grace  and  culture  I  may  ever 
acquire.  You  and  I  know  his  wonderful  unselfishness,  his 
tender,  sympathy,  his  exquisite  delicacy  of  thought  and  life, 
as  well  as  others  know  his  wit  and  his  scholarship.  It  was 

while  I  was  writing  the  opening  pages  of  this  story  that  the 

3 


4  PREFACE. 

news  of  his  death  came.  It  was  while  my  work  was  but 
half  finished,  that  I  was  called  away  to  the  most  remote 
and  wildest  portions  of  this  great  country  of  ours,  and  thus 
has  my  story  become  a  sketch,  —  a  bare  outline  of  what 
I  intended. 

But,  such  as  it  is,  you  and  a  few  others  will  know  what 
I  mean  by  it;  and  that  point  gained,  the  rest  matters  little. 
If  by  it  one  single  heart  is  made  to  throb,  even  for  an 
instant,  with  love  of  this  country,  of  which  we  can  never 
be  too  mindful  nor  too  proud,  my  object  will  be  gained. 
And  now  I  commend  to  you  this  book. 

Ever  your  friend, 

FEED.   W.  LOEING. 
To  MR.  WM.  W.  CHAMBERLIN. 


"At  dawn,"  he  said,  "Ibid  them  all  farewell, 
To  go  where  bugles  blow  and  rifles  gleam." 

And  with  the  leaking  thought  asleep  he  fell, 
And  wandered  into  dream. 

A  great  hot  plain  from  lake  to  ocean  spread, 
Through  it  a  level  river  slowly  drawn? 

He  moved  with  a  vast  crowd,  and  at  its  head 
Streamed  banners  like  the  dawn. 

Then  came  a  blinding  flash,  a  deafening  roar, 
And  dissonant  cries  of  terror  and  dismay ; 

Elood  trickled  down  the  river's  reedy  shore, 
And  with  the  dead  he  lay. 

The  morn  broke  in  upon  his  solemn  dream, 
And  still  with  steady  pulse  and  deepening  eye, 

"Where  bugles  call,"  he  said,  "and  rifles  gleam, 
I  follow,  though  I  die." 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS. 

"  '  At  dawn,'  he  said,  '  I  bid  them  all  farewell, 

To  go  where  bugles  blow  and  rifles  gleam ; ' 
And  with  the  waking  thought  asleep  he  fell, 
And  wandered  into  dream." 

I. 

THE    LECTURE    ON    DOMESTIC    ARTS. 

IT  was  quarter  after  two  in  the  after 
noon,  and  the  Professor  was  sitting  at  his 
desk,  engaged  in  arranging  the  notes  of 
his  lecture,  when  there  came  a  knock  on 
the  door. 

"Come  in,"  said  the   Professor.     "Ah, 

7 


8  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

Ned!  is  it  you?"  This  to  a  graceful  boy 
of  twenty,  who  entered  the  room. 

:c  Yes,  it  is  Ned,"  said  the  boy;  "and  he 
particularly  wishes  to  see  you  for  a  few 
minutes." 

"Every  moment  is  precious,"  said  the 
Professor,  "  until  my  lecture  is  in  order. 
"What  is  the  matter?  Are  you  in 
trouble?" 

?  Yes,"  said  Ned,  "  I  am  in  trouble." 

"  Then  let  me  read  to  you,"  said  the 
Professor,  "the  concluding  paragraph  of 
my  lecture  on  Domestic  Arts." 

"Oh,  don't!"  said  Ned;  "I  really  am 
in  trouble." 

"Are  you  the  insulter  or  the  insulted, 
this  time?"  asked  the  Professor. 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  9 

"Neither,"  said  Ned,  shortly;  "and  I'm 
not  in  trouble  on  my  own  account." 

"Ah!"  said  the  Professor;  "then  you 
have  got  into  some  difficulty  in  your  ex 
plorations  in  low  life;  or  you  have  spent 
more  than  your  income;  or  it's  the  per 
petual  Tom." 

"  It's  the  perpetual  Tom,"  said  Ned. 

"  I  supposed  so,"  observed  the  Pro 
fessor.  :?  What  has  that  youth  been  doing 
now?  Drinking,  swearing,  gambling,  bad 
company,  theft,  murder? — out  with  it! 
I  am  prepared  for  anything,  from  the  ex 
pression  of  your  face;  for  anything,  that 
is  to  say,  except  my  lecture  on  Domestic 
Arts,  which  comes  at  three." 

"  Well,  if  you  choose  to  make   fun  of 


10  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

me,"  said  Ned,  "  I  can  go ;  but  I  thought 
you  would  advise  me." 

"And  so  I  will,  you  ridiculous  creature, 
when  you  need  it,"  said  the  Professor; 
"  only  at  such  times  you  generally  act  for 
yourself.  But,  come;  my  advice  and  sym 
pathy  are  yours;  so  what  has  Tom  done?" 

"  He  has  fallen  in  love,"  said  ]S"ed. 

"  Oh,  no! "  said  the  Professor. 

'Yes,  sir,"  repeated  Ned,  more  firmly, 
"he  has  fallen  in  love." 

"Tis  the  way  of  all  flesh,"  said  the 
Professor;  "but  I  don't  think  Tom  can 
fall  in  love.  He  never  even  dislikes  any 
one  without  a  cause." 

:t  That's  all  very  well,  sir,"  said  Ned; 
"  but  when  a  fellow  has  a  girl's  picture,  and 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  11 

looks  at  it  when  he  thinks  he  isn't 
watched;  and  when  he  receives  notes,  and 
keeps  them,  instead  of  throwing  them 
around,  as  usual;  and  when  he  takes  to 
being  blue, — what  do  you  say?  " 

"Please  state  your  propositions  sepa 
rately,"  said  the  Professor,  "  and  I  will  en 
deavor  to  form  an  opinion.  When  a 
fellow  has  a  girl's  picture,  —  what  was  the 
rest?" 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  make  fun  of  me," 
said  Ned. 

:c  Well,  in  Heaven's  name,  what  is  there 
to  trouble  you,  if  Tom  is  in  love  ?  "  asked 
the  Professor. 

• 

"  Because  he  hasn't  told  me,"  said  Ned. 
w  Oh!  you  are  jealous  then," rejoined  the 


12  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

Professor.  :?  You  are  the  most  selfish  per 
son,  for  one  who  is  so  generous,  that  I  have 
ever  seen.  You  are  morbid  upon  the  sub 
ject  of  Tom,  I  believe." 

*  Well,  look  here,"  said  iN~ed;  "I  have 
neither  father  nor  mother;  I  have  no  one 
except  Tom.  I  care  more  for  him  than  for 
any  one  else  in  the  world,  as  you  know; 
but  you  never  will  know  how  much  I  care 
for  him;  and  it  does  seem  hard  that  he 
should  shut  me  out  of  his  confidence  when 
I  have  done  nothing  to  forfeit  it.  There's 
some  girl  at  the  bottom  of  all  this.  He 
and  that  big  Western  friend  of  his,  the 
Blush  Rose,  whom  I  never  liked,  have 
been  off  together  two  or  three  times;  and, 
as  I  say,  Tom  has  got  this  picture;  and 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  13 

the  Blush  Rose  knows  it,  and  knows  who 
she  is.  I've  seen  them  looking  at  it,  and 
admiring  it.  I'm  afraid,  from  Tom's  not 
telling  me  about  it,  that  he's  doing  some 
thing  out  of  the  way." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  the  Professor,  "  you 
had  better  let  me  read  you  the  closing  par 
agraph  of  my  lecture  on  Domestic  Arts." 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  said  Ned;  "I  shall 
have  to  hear  it,  any  way,  this  afternoon." 

"  So  you  will,"  said  the  Professor;  "  and, 
by  the  way,  I  shall  give  you  a  private  if 
you  behave  to-day  as  you  did  in  my  last 
lecture.  I  have  told  your  class-tutor  to 
warn  you." 

:rWell,  that  is  pleasant,"  saicl  Ned. 

"  I  meant  it  to  be,"  replied  the  Professor. 


14  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

"  Good-by.     I  may  call  at  your  room  to 
night, — to  see  Tom." 

And,  as  JSTed  was  heard  going  down  the 
stairs,  the  Professor,  seeing  that  he  had 
still  twenty-five  minutes  to  spare,  took 
his  lecture,  and  sat  down  before  the  fire, 
which  flickered  slightly,  and  just  served 
to  destroy  the  dampness  of  that  April  day. 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  15 


II. 


THE  PICTURE  OVER  THE  FIREPLACE. 

"WHETHER  the  Professor  would  have 
made  any  alterations  or  amendments  in 
his  lecture,  it  is  difficult  to  say ;  that  he  did 
not  is  due  to  the  fact  that  his  eye  fell  upon 
a  little  photograph,  which  hung  over  his 
fireplace.  As  he  sits  there,  thinking  over 
what  Ned  has  told  him,  and  laughing  at 
the  idea  of  Tom's  being  really  in  love,  he 
gazes  on  this  little  photograph,  and  smiles. 
The  Professor  has  one  or  two  real  art  treas 
ures,  but  nothing  that  he  values  quite  as 
much  as  this  fading  picture.  This  is  the 


16  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

only  copy  in  existence;  and  this  hangs 
there,  and  will  hang  there  until  the  Pro 
fessor  dies.  How  well  he  remembers  the 
morning  when  the  two  boys,  whom  he 
loves  so  well,  rushed  into  his  room,  and 
left  it  there !  As  he  looks  at  it  now,  there 
is  an  expression  of  tenderness  on  his  plain 
but  strongly  cut  features  that  would  great 
ly  astonish  those  of  his  pupils  who  only 
know  him  as  a  crusty  instructor. 

The  Professor  is  somewhat  crusty,  it  must 
be  owned.  It  is,  however,  an  acquired  and 
not  a  natural  crustiness.  Cause,  the  fact 
that  at  thirty  years  of  age  he  discovered 
that  he  cared  more  for  a  certain  Miss  Spen 
cer  than  for  all  the  world  beside.  On  in 
timating  this  fact  to  her,  she  told  him  that 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  17 

she  should  always  value  his  friendship; 
and  that  she  hoped  soon  to  introduce  to 
him  her  cousin  Hugh,  "  who  is,"  she  added 
quietly,  "  to  become  my  husband."  After 
this  the  Professor  withdrew  almost  en 
tirely  from  society,  and  plunged  deeper 
and  deeper  into  study.  Before  many 
years  his  reputation  was  cosmopolitan, 
his  head  bald,  and  his  life  a  matter  of 
routine.  Boys  came  and  went;  and  at 
intervals  he  repeated  before  them  much 
of  what  he  knew.  It  is  to  these  two  boys, 
of  whom  he  thinks  now,  as  he  gazes  on  the 
picture  over  the  mantel,  that  he  owes  his 
rescue  from  this  lethargic  life. 

"What  does  he  see  in  the  picture  ?    He 

sees  behind  a  chair,  in  which  a  boy  is  sit- 
2 


18  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

ting,  another  boy  with  soft,  curling  brown 
hair,  deep  blue  eyes,  and  dazzling  com 
plexion.  His  features  are  delicately  cut; 
but  the  especial  beauty  of  his  face  is  the 
brilliancy  of  color  in  his  hair,  eyes,  and 
complexion.  There  is  the  freshness  of 
youth  on  his  features;  and  his  whole  atti 
tude,  as  he  leans  over  his  companion,  is 
full  of  that  quaint  grace  of  boyish  tender 
ness  so  indefinable  and  so  transitory.  The 
boy  in  the  chair  has  a  face  full  of  strength 
and  weakness.  The  photograph  makes 
him  appear  the  more  striking  of.  the  two, 
though  the  less  handsome.  The  sunny 
sweetness  of  the  first  face,  though  it 
never  alters,  never  becomes  wearisome; 
but  the  second  face  .is  now  all  love,  now 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  19 

disfigured  by  scorn  and  hatred,  now  full  of 
intellect,  and  glowing  with  animation,  now 
sullen  and  morose.  The  complexion  is 
olive,  the  eyes  brown,  the  lips  strongly  cut, 
yet  so  mobile  as  to  be  capable  of  every 
variety  of  earnest  and  sneering  expression. 
The  face  is  always,  in  all  its  varying  pha 
ses,  the  face  of  one  who  is  not  dissatisfied 
but  unsatisfied.  This  is  what  the  Profes 
sor  sees,  as  the  firelight  throws  its  glimmer 
over  the  room,  making  grotesque  shadows 
waver  fitfully  on  the  pictures  and  books 
around  him,  as  well  as  on  the  heavy  cur 
tains  that  hide  the  rays  of  afternoon  light 
which  struggle  through  the  leafy  boughs 
of  the  old  elms  in  the  yard  without. 

As  the  Professor  sits  there  thinking,  he 


20  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

seems  to  recall  again  the  first  visit  of  Tom 
and  3sTed  to  his  room.  Tom  is  a  lovely 
boy,  —  the  original  of  the  standing  figure 
in  the  photograph;  and  the  Professor 
had  been  attracted  by  his  face  once  or 
twice  when  he  had  met  him  in  the  yard, 
soon  after  his  entrance  into  college.  Still 
he  is  surprised,  one  evening,  when  he 
hears  a  knock  at  his  door,  and  this  Fresh 
man  enters  half  shyly.  The  Professor  asks 
him  to  be  seated,  and  then  looks  at  him 
inquiringly. 

"I  was  awfully  homesick,"  says  Tom, 
with  perfect  trustfulness;  "  and  mother 
told  me  that  you  were  once  a  very  dear 
friend  of  here;  so  I  thought  I  would  come 
up  and  see  you."  The  Professor  is  bewil- 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  21 

dered.  Still  he  is  a  gentleman;  so  he 
smiles,  and  says  to  Tom :  — 

"  Pray  be  seated.  Your  mother  is  well, 
I  trust." 

"Oh,  yes!"  says  Tom.  "Perhaps,  as 
she  hasn't  seen  you  since  before  I  was 
born,  I  ought  to  have  said  who  she  was. 
Her  name  was  Spencer." 

The  Professor  turns  quickly.  Tom  pro 
ceeds  with  entire  unconsciousness :  — 

"  She  often  speaks  of  you,  sir,  and  al 
ways  in  a  way  that  has  made  me  want  to 
know  you." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  Tom,"  said  the  Profes 
sor.  ?  You  must  excuse  my  calling  you 
by  your  first  name ;  but  then  you  are  the 
son  of — your  mother." 


22  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

Any  one  but  Tom,  who  never  noticed 
anything,  would  have  seen  here  that  the 
Professor's  manner  was  peculiar.  But 
Tom  is  always  so  brightly  ignorant  of 
what  is  before  his  eyes,  that  the  Professor 
recovers  his  self-possession,  and  says 
calmly :  — 

"And  your  mother  is  well,  I  hope?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  Tom ;  "  very  well,  but 
a  little  sad  at  my  leaving  home.  She  is 
very  fond  of  me,  sir." 

"  Strange  fact !  "  said  the  Professor, 
dryly.  "And  I  see  that  you  are  equally 
fond  of -her.  I  am  not  given  to  moraliz 
ing;  but  I  think  that  college  life  will  not 
decay  you,  if  you  don't  forget  how  much 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  23 

you  arc  to  your  mother,  —  how  unhappy 
you  can  make  her." 

"Forget  her?"  said  Tom;  "not  I! 
"When  I  am  at  home,  I  make  love  to  her 
all  the  time." 

w  Then,"  said  the  Professor,  "  it  is  well 
that  you  have  left  home;  for  it  will  soon 
be  time  for  you  to  make  love  to  some  one 
else." 

As  the  Professor  makes  this  observa 
tion,  there  is  another  knock  at  the  door, 
and  Ned  enters.  Who  is  Ned?  Ned  is 
the  original  of  the  sitting  figure  in  the 
little  picture  over  the  fireplace.  He  is 
despotic  in  character,  and  has  therefore 
many  sincere  friends  and  enemies.  He 
is  fearless  when  indignant,  and  is  indig- 


24  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

nant  easily.  He  is  not  handsome  as  Tom 
is,  —  for  Tom's  beauty  charms  you  im 
mediately,  and  the  charm  is  never  broken; 
but  he  has  a  curious  grace  and  fascina 
tion  of  manner  when  he  is  not  perverse  j 
but  then,  he  often  is  perverse. 

The  Professor  cannot  tell  whether  he 
likes  Ned,  or  not.  He  has  been  giving 
Ned  private  tuition,  to  fit  him  for  college, 
for  nearly  a  year.  All  their  acquaintance 
hitherto  has  been  one  of  business,  all 
their  conversation  confined  to  an  oc 
casional  dry  remark  on  either  side.  Now, 
when  their  contract  is  fulfilled,  the  Pro 
fessor  cannot  imagine  why  Ned  should 
take  advantage  of  his  general  invitation, 
and  visit  him.  Still  he  asks  Ned  to  be 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  25 

seated,  and  then  enters  into  conversation 
with  him. 

]S"ed  talks.  His  keen  eye  has  noted 
everything  ludicrous  and  everything  in 
teresting  among  his  instructors,  among 
his  classmates,  among  all  the  persons 
and  things  with  which  college  life  has 
brought  him  in  contact.  He  is  full  of 
animation;  he  tells  stories,  all  of  which 
have  a  point;  he  sparkles  with  wit,  which 
is  none  the  less  brilliant  for  having  a 
certain  boyish  freshness  about  it.  All 
this  is  a  new  revelation  to  the  Professor. 
He  laughs,  and  in  his  turn  becomes  en 
tertaining;  and,  finally,  going  to  his 
sideboard,  produces  three  quaint  glasses, 
which  he  fills  with  some  of  that  rare  and 


26  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

wonderful  old  Madeira,  which  many  of 
his  acquaintances  have  heard  of,  but 
which  few  have  ever  seen. 

Tom,  in  the  mean  time,  sits  listening, 
radiant  with  enjoyment,  with  the  firelight 
tinting  his  lovely  face.  w  Such  a  joHy 
old  fellow  as  this  Professor  is!  "'he  says 
to  himself;  w  and  such  a  being  as  Ned !  " 
He  is  happier  than  he  has  been  since  he 
left  home;  and  he  wishes  his  mother 
could  look  in  upon  them  now;  and  he 
drains  his  glass  to  her  health.  He  is 
puzzled  because  JSTed  will  address  his 
remarks  only  to  the  Professor,  and  seems 
shy  whenever  he  speaks.  Finally,  con 
scious  that  it  is  growing  late,  he  bids  the 
Professor  farewell,  and  Ned  rises  to 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  27 

accompany  him.  The  Professor  says 
then,  with  a  courteous  and  quiet  dig 
nity:— 

"Tom,  you  must  give  my  regards  to 
your  mother,  when  you  write.  Tell  her 
that  her  boy  will  be  always  an  object  of 
especial  interest  to  her  old  friend."  Then, 
turning  to  Ned,  the  Professor  adds,  as 
Tom  disappears  in  the  entry:  — 

"I  have  to  thank  you  for  a  very 
pleasant  evening.  You  will  come  again, 
my  boy,  will  you  not?  Why  have  you 
never  before  shown  me  what  you  really 
are?" 

tf  It  wasn't  for  you,  sir,"  said  Ned,  with 
a  certain  frankness  that  was  not  dis 
courteous.  "It  was  for  Tom,  sir;  though 


28  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

I  like  you,  and  hope  we  shall  be  friends. 
But  the  moment  I  saw  Tom,  I  felt  drawn 
towards  him;  and,  as  I  saw  him  come 
up  here,  I  felt  that  here  was  a  chance  to 
get  acquainted  with  him.  Good-night, 
sir." 

And  Ned  joined  Tom  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  leaving  the  Professor  in  a  state 
of  complete  bewilderment.  The  Professor 
laughs  now,  as  he  recalls  that  evening, 
and  looks  again  at  the  picture  over  the 
fireplace. 

"  They  are  an  interesting  pair,  —  a 
sunbeam  and  a  volcano,"  he  says;  and, 
throwing  on  his  cloak,  just  as  the  bell 
begins  to  ring,  he  starts  for  his  lecture- 
room. 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  29 


III. 

HE  MOVED   WITH  A   VAST   CROWD. 

IT  was  just  after  supper;  and  the 
Professor,  with  his  thoughts  still  occu 
pied  by  Tom  and  !Ned,  walked  slowly 
toward  his  room  through'  the  dimly- 
lighted  yard,  where  the  twilight  was 
half  dispelled  by  the  gleams  of  gas-light 
that  stole  from  the  windows  around.  He 
sauntered  along,  enjoying  the  sweet 
spring  air  of  the  evening,  and  touching 
his  hat  to  one  boy  after  another  until  he 
came  by  ]STed's  entry,  when  he  turned, 
and  took  his  way  to  the  room  of  his 


30  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

boys.  He  had  stopped,  as  he  passed 
through  the  square,  for  his  paper,  and 
had  noticed  that  a  crowd  seemed  to  be 
eagerly  and  excitedly  discussing  the  news 
of  the  evening  around  the  post-office. 
Pausing  an  instant  in  the  entry  to  look 
at  his  paper,  before  ascending  the  stairs, 
his  ej^e  fell  on  an  announcement  which 
caused  him  to  utter  an  exclamation  of 
surprise;  and  he  rushed  eagerly  into  the 
room,  with  the  words:  — 

"Boys,  have  you  heard  the  news?" 
Ned  turned  from  the   glass,  where   he 

was  tying  his  cravat,  and  Tom  raised 
i 

himself  from  his  lounge ;  but  before  either 
of  them  had  an  opportunity  to  answer, 
the  Professor  said:  — 


TWO   COLLEGE  FRIENDS.  31 

:?  There  has  been  a  quarrel  here.  Now, 
boys,  I  must  know  all  about  it.  See,  I'm 
going  to  spring  the  lock,  and  have  you 
clear  your  minds  at  once." 

"There's  nothing. to  clear,"    said  Tom. 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  if,  you  please," 
said  the  Professor.  'You  may  not  have 
a  mind  at  all;  but  I  know  that  Ned  has, 
to  a  limited  extent.  Doubtless  you  are 
both  wrong;  so  let  me  see  which  will  be 
gentleman  enough  to  apologize  first. 
Come,  boys,  this  matter  must  be  set 
right.  ?Let  not  the  sun  go  down  upon 
your  wrath '  is  one  of  the  best  pieces  of 
advice  ever  given." 

"It  is  after  sunset   now,"    said  Ned; 


32  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

"and  we  are  not  both  wrong.  I  am 
right." 

"Cheerful  self-confidence,"  said  the 
Professor.  "Please  let  me  understand 
the  cause  of  wrath/' 

"  Simply  because  I  object  to  the  Blush 
Rose,"  said  Ned.  "I  say  that  he  has 
come  between  us." 

"And  I  say"  —  broke  in  Tom. 

"  Hush,  Tom ! "  said  the  Professor, 
"until  Ned  has  finished." 

"I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  said 
Ned,  "  except  that  Tom  must,  once  for 
all,  choose  between  us."" 

"Very  well,"  said  Tom;  "  as  you  please; 
only,  while  I  don't  care  for  any  fellow  as  I 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  33 

do  for  you,  I'm  not  going  to  submit  to 
dictation." 

:?  You're  entangled  with  some  woman, 
through  Blodgett,"  said  Ned.  "  He's  a 
nice  associate  for  a  gentleman,  he  is." 

"  I  entangled  with  a  woman !  "  repeated 
Tom.  *~VVhy,  Ned!  you're  crazy." 

:?  Whose  picture  is  it  that  you  are  carry 
ing?"  asked  Ned. 

"Oh,  thunder!"  said  Tom;  "is  that 
what  all  this  row  is  about?" 

"  I  suppose  you've  fallen  in  love,  and  in 
Junior  year  too !  "  continued  Ned,  wrath- 
fully  and  contemptuously. 

"Juniors  have  done  such  things  before," 
observed  the  Professor. 

"Fallen  in  love!  "  said  Tom;  "as  if  I'd 

3 


34  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

do  that!  Look  here,  old  fellow,  if  you 
knew  about  that  picture,  you'd  ask  my 
pardon." 

""Well,  as  I  don't,  I  shan't,"  said  Ned. 

"  Come,  boys,"  said  the  Professor,  "  this 
ridiculous  quarrel,  worthy  only  of  a  couple 
of  little  children,  has  gone  quite  far 
enough.  Ned,  I  think  you  are  petulant 
and  absurd;  but  if  you  will  go  out  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  take  a  short  walk, 
Tom  will  unbosom  himself  to  me,  I  am 


sure." 


:?  Well,  I  call  that  cheek,  to  turn  a  man 
out  of  his  own  room,"  s^d  Ned. 

"Correct  that  sentence,  please,  Ned," 
said  the  Professor.  :<:You  would  call  it 
cheek  if  it  were  not  done  by  a  member 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  35 

» 

of  the  Faculty.  There,  be  off  with  you. 
And  now,  Tom,  tell  your  story.'7 

"I  haven't  any,"  said  Tom;  "only  Ned 
is  in  one  of  his  moods." 

"Then  you  are  not  in  love,"  said  the 
Professor. 

"Why,  no!"  said  Tom,  "how  could  I 
be?" 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Professor; 
"but  people  are  sometimes.  And  have 
you  a  secret  connected  with  that  fat, 
red-faced  brute,  Blodgett,  whom  you  call 
the  Blush  Kose?" 

'"Well,  yes,"  said  Tom:  "it's  about  a 
photograph." 

"  Let  us  see  this  photograph,"  said  the 
Professor.  "  Explain !  " 


36  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

*Why,  it's  a  surprise  for  Ned,  don't 
you  see?"  said  Tom.  "It's  the  proof 
picture  of  me  in  the  last  theatricals.  See, 
there  I  am  as  Marton,  the  Pride  of  the 
Market." 

:?What  a  mistake  nature  made  about 
your  sex,  Tom!  "  said  the  Professor. 
*You  dear  little  peasant  girl,  put  your 
self  away  directly;  and  now  take  my 
advice:  show  it  to  Ned;  it  will  make 
him  ashamed  of  his  folly,  and  will  pre 
vent  any  further  angry  words  between 
you.  It  is  hard  to  quarrel,  and  so  you 
will  think  some  day,  though  now  you  find 
it  so  easy.  There,  put  it  away;  for  I 
hear  Ned's  footsteps  on  the  stairs!  Come 
in,  Ned!  "Why!  what  has  happened?  " 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  37 

For  ]STed,  standing  in  the  open  door 
way,  his  perverse  moodiness  all  gone, 
wore  an  expression  the  Professor  had 
never  seen  before. 

"Happened! "  said  Ned. .  " Something  to 
live  for,  something  to  die  for.  "We  know 
now  that  we  have  a  country.  Haven't 
you  heard  the  news?  " 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  the  Professor,  "  that's 
what  I  came  to  tell  you;  but  your  quarrel 
drove  it  out  of  my  head." 

"How  could  anything  else  come  into 
your  head?  "  said  Ned. 

:?  Tell  me  what  it  is,"  asked  Tom,  impa 
tiently. 

w  The  President  has  called  the   people 


38  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

to  arms,  to  aid  him  in  saving  the  country," 
said  Ned,  fairly  glowing  as  he  spoke.' 

?  Yes,"  "said  the  Professor,  "is  it  not 
grand  to  think  that  we  are  aroused  at 
last?  " 

""Well,"  said  Ned,  "I  have   still  more 
to  tell  you.     I  have  enlisted." 
•  There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  moments; 
then  the  Professor  grasped   Ned's  hand, 
and  said  simply:  — 

"My  noble  boy!" 

*  What  do  you  say,  Tom?"  asked  Ned. 

"I'm  going  with  you,  old  fellow,"  said 
Tom;  and  he  threw  his  arm  over  Ned's 
shoulder,  and  smiled  at  the  Professor. 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  39 


IV. 

NED'S  NOTE-BOOK. 

IT  is  well  that  I  formed  the  habit  of 
keeping  a  note-book  some  time  ago.  How 
interesting  what  I  am  now  writing  will  be 
to  my  wife  and  children  in  years  to  come, 
when  I  sit  before  my  own  fire,  in  my  own 
house!  The  college  chronicle  of  funny 
adventures  and  curious  stories  that  my 
note-book  has  previously  contained  is  sus 
pended  for  a  time;  and  I  am  thinking  of ; 
matters  of  life  and  death  now.  "Well,  it 
is  splendid  to  have  a  life  to  lose;  and  the 
thought  of  death,  in  this  cause,  has  a 


40  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

grand,  awful  thrill  in  it,  that  drives  away 
all  the  former  terror  death  has  possessed 
for  me.  These  remarks  are  intended  as 
an  opening  of  my  war  note-book.  Here 
am  I,  jnst  twenty-one,  and  a  captain, — 
a  whole  captain.  It  is  absurd;  no,  it  isn't. 
Col.  Burke  is  raising  a  regiment.  He  has 
as  much  superfluity  about  him  as  an  iron 
nail  has,  and  no  more.  He  was  introduced 
to  me  about  a  week  ago,  and  was  told 
about  my  visits  to  the  people  around 
Crescent  Court.  People  will  make  me 
out  a  philanthropist,  which  I  am  not;  for 
I  despise  most  people  I  know,  though  the 
lower  classes  are  quite  interesting,  but 
dirty.  I  never  talked  religion  to  any  of 
those  creatures  in  my  life.  I  have  given 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  41 

them  very  little  in  charity;  but  I  have 
listened  to  what  they  say  as  I  would  to 
my  own  classmates;  and,  having  talked 
with  them  at  the  North  End,  I  have 
bowed  to  them  at  the  West  End.  In  a 
word,  I  have  carried  les  convenances  into 
Richmond  Street,  and  have  not  election 
eered.  Result,  I  have  some  influence, 
which  is  useless,  except  in  keeping  me 
clear  of  pickpockets.  So  the  colonel 
would  have  me  raise  a  company.  I 
laughed  at  the  idea,  but  consented  to 
try;  and  here  are  over  fifty  recruits 
already.  I  told  them  that  I  had  about 
as  much  to  learn  as  any  of  them,  and 
agreed  to  have  the  captain  elected  by 
vote,  myself  becoming  a  private.  I  should 


42  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

have  been  very  much  disgusted  if  they 
had  taken  me  at  my  word;  but  they 
didn't.  So  I  am  a  captain;  but  my  lieu 
tenants  are  still  to  be  found. 

Tom  is  full  of  patriotism.  I  never  can 
tell  how  deeply  a  sentiment  enters  his 
mind;  but  he  is  fretting  terribly  about 
going  with  me.  How  I  wish  he  could! 
but  his  father  very  sensibly  advises  him 
to  wait  a  year  longer,  till  he  is  through 
at  Harvard;  and  his  mother  is  in  great 
distress  at  the  idea  of  his  leaving  her. 
The  Professor  is  non-committal  on  the 
subject. 


This  morning  entered  Jane  Ellen  Bing- 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  43 

ley  to  the   recruiting  office,  where  I  was 

» 

receiving  enlistments.  Jane  Ellen  is  limp 
in  appearance,  but  energetic  in  character. 
Her  bonnet  was  wine-colored  velvet;  her 
shawl  draggled  green,  with  a  habit  of 
falling  off  her  shoulders  as  she  talked; 
and  her  gown  was  calico.  By  the  bonnet 
I  recognized  her.  She  is  the  chief  attrac 
tion  at  one  of  the  North  Street  dance- 
houses,  and  entertains  an  admiration  for 
me  of  which  I  am  utterly  undeserving. 
I  have  so  often  declined  in  forcible  lan 
guage  to  dance  with  her,  that  I  did  not 
suppose  she  could  feel  pleasantly  toward 
me ;  but  she  came  forward  and  said :  — 

w  Here's  my  man ! " 

Her  man  was  a  stout    fellow,    rather 


44  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

stupid-looking,  with  a  dyed  mustache. 
Jane  Ellen  herself  is  really  very  pretty, 
and  might  possibly  reform,  if  she  was  sent 
away  from  here.  Reformation,  when  pos 
sible,  is  only  possible  through  removal. 
So  Jane  Ellen  having  presented  her  man, 
I  said  briefly :  — 

"What  of  it?" 

Thereupon  Jane  Ellen  explained  that 
her  man  wished  to  enlist,  and  that  she 
wished  him  to  come  under  me,  as  she 
knew  I'd  be  a  good  captain  to  the  poor 
boy.  Sensible  of  the  compliment,  I  sug 
gested  to  Jane  Ellen  the  propriety  of 
marrying  him  first.  In  that  way  I  ex 
plained  to  her  he  would  send  her  his 
salary  (I  could  not  say  wages,  Jane  Ellen 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  45 

being  American) ;  he  would  have  some 
object  for  working  his  way  up  from  the 
ranks;  and  he  would  have  a  home  to  think 
of,  when  away,  wounded,  sick,  or  expect 
ing  to  die.  All  these  things  would  benefit 
him  greatly.  I  regret  to  say  that  Michael 
appeared  more  affected  than  Jane  Ellen 
at  the  pictures  I  drew.  Jane  Ellen's  an 
swer,  which  only  came  after  considerable 
reflection,  was,  to  say  the  least,  peculiar. 

w  I  never  expected  to  live  to  be  a  mar 
ried  woman,"  she  remarked;  "and  it's  a 
queer  home  I'd  be  able  to  make  for  any 
body.  However,  it  may  do  Mike  good; 
so  I'll  do  it.  So,  Mike,  I'll  marry  you 
right  off,  and  endeavor  to  be  a  decent 
woman,  —  until  you  come  back  from  the 


46  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

war   again ; "  which  last  clause  was  pru 
dently  added. 

Another  quarrel  with  Tom;  and  this 
time  the  Professor  admits  that  I 'am  right. 
Tom  begs  me  to  write,  and  solicit  his 
parents'  consent;  and  I  won't  do  it;  so 
Tom  sulks,  —  that  is  the  only  word,  — 
and  will  not  be  appeased. 

He  even  declares  that  I  wish  to  get  rid 
of  him,  when  it  will  almost  break  my  heart 
to  go  without  him.  If  that  boy  only 
knew  what  he  was  to  me,  who  am  without 
father,  mother,  or  family  of  my  own,  and 
with  almost  no  friends,  except  the  Pro 
fessor!  However,  for  the  same  reason 
that  I  have  never  yet  visited  him  at  his 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  47 

house,  because  I  did  not  wish  to  have  our 
attachment  or  my  character  analyzed  or 
criticised  by  his  parents,  I  will  not  say  a 
word  now.  I  believe  it  will  do  him  good 
to  go;  for  I  know  the  thought  of  going 
has  done  me  good. 

The  Professor  has  a  plan,  he  says,  and 
wishes  me  to  be  at  home  to-night,  so  that 
he  can  tell  it  to  me. 

The  Professor  has  told  me  a  great  deal 
more  than  he  has  actually  said.  I  know 
now  why  he  cares  so  much  for  Tom;  and 
I  should  like  to  see  Tom's  mother.  I 
wonder  if  a  woman  will  ever  change  my 
life ;  and  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  care  for 
any  woman  as  much  as  I  do  for  Tom. 


48  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

The  Professor  says  that  Tom  must  go; 
that  he  is  fretting  himself  sick  now,  and 
that  it  will  develop  his  manliness  of  char 
acter.  He  thinks  I  am  right  in  not  inter 
fering,  however,  and  says  that  he  is  going 
to  try  what  he  can  do.  Dear  old  fellow! 
His  face  flushed,  and  he  gave  a  curious 
sort  of  gulp,  as  he  said :  — 

K  She  always  respected  me;  and  I  think 
she  would  let  Tom  go,  if  I  advised  her 
to  do  so." 

"  Then  shall  you  write  to  her?  "  I  asked. 

wJS"o,  Ned,"  he  said;  "I  shall  go  and 
visit  her,  and  start  to-morrow.  The  first 
time  in  twenty  years,  —  dear  me,  the  first 
time  in  twenty  years!  How  old  I  am 
getting  to  be !  " 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  49 

• 

I  knew  what  he  meant;  and  I  honored 
his  pluck.  I  should  sort  of  like  to  be  in 
love  myself;  but  I  am  half  afraid  to  think 
about  it.  Oh,  well!  there  will  be  plenty 
of  time  when  the  war  is  over.  The  Pro 
fessor  is  to  start  to-morrow;  and  Tom  is 
not  to  know  about  it.. 

My  first  lieutenant  is  a  treasure.  His 
name  is  Murphy;  and  he  is  a  retired 
rough,  by  profession,  but  he  has  splendid 
stuff  in  him.  Our  acquaintance  had  a 
peculiar  beginning.  I  was  drilling  a 
squad  of  men,  and  not  succeeding  very 
well  in  what  I  was  about,  when  this  giant 
loafed  in,  and  began  to  make  a  disturb 
ance.  I  looked  at  him,  and  saw  that 

4 


50  TWO   CPLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

remonstrance  would  be  in  vain;  so  I 
knocked  him  down,  seeing  my  opportunity 
to  do  so  effectively.  My  men  laughed. 
The  giant  raised  himself  in  astonish 
ment. 

:?You  can't  do  that  again,"  said  he. 
Another  laugh  from  the  chorus. 

"I  know  it,"  said  I.  Still  another 
laugh. 

w  I  could  just  walk  through  you  in  two 

minutes,"  he  growled,  with  an  oath. 

* 

"I  believe  you,"  said  I;  "and  I  shall 
give  you  a  chance  to,  if  you  don't  keep 
quiet." 

He  kept  quiet  for  a  time.  Then,  while 
I  was  trying  some  manoeuvre,  he  came 
up  and  said,  quite  politely :  — 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  51 

"Perhaps  I  can  help  you." 

"Thanks,"  sai.d  I;  "do  you  know  any 
thing  about  it?"  Then  Murphy  informed 
me  that  he  had  been  in  several  places 
where  there  had  been  fighting;  and  I  saw 
he  was  far  my  superior  in  many  respects. 
So,  when  I  got  him  to  enlist,  and  found 
that  he  was  thoroughly  interested,  and 
that  the  men  liked  him  with  a  feeling  of 
fellowship  that  they  will  never  have  for 
me,  I  hope,  I  talked  with  the  colonel  about 
making  him  my  first  lieutenant;  and  it  is 
now  a  fait  accompli.  Murphy's  delight 
and  gratitude  at  receiving  his  commission 
knew  no  bounds;  and  several  of  his 
cousins  enlisted  immediately.  He  has 
now  a  sense  of  personal  devotion  to  me 


52  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

that  will  help  me  greatly.  Dear  me,  how 
old  and  mature  and  self-reliant  I  am 
growing!  and,  three  weeks  ago,  I  was 
such  a  baby!  Murphy  is  the  second 
largest  and  second  strongest  man  of  us 
all.  The  largest  is  a  large-eyed,  half- 
crazy  clairvoyant,  gentle  as  a  dove,  and 
strong  as  an  ox.  I  found  him  weeping 
the  other  day;  and,  somewhat  disgusted, 
as  well  as  astonished,  asked  the  cause. 
Result  was,  that  he  said  he  wept  about  me. 
I  was  not  to  die  in  battle,  nor  in  sickness, 
but  was  *  to  meet  with  a  dishonorable 
death  for  a  dishonorable  action.  Tom  and 
Murphy  were  furious ;  but  I  couldn't  be  be 
fore  the  two  or  three  men  who. heard  it;  so 
I  treated  the  affair  as  a  good  joke.  The 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  53 

boys  call  this  fellow  Mooney;  which  name 
is  appropriate  certainly.  Tom  has  been  in 
two  or  three  times  to  drill.  He  studies  Har- 
dee  incessantly;  practises  by  himself  all 
that  he  can,  and  would  form  himself  into  a 
whole  squad,  and  drill  himself,  if  it  were 
possible.  He  is  even  getting  into  the 
way  of  planning  battles  and  movements, 
and  is  perfectly  wild  at  each  report  in 
the  newspapers.  I  never  saw  him  in  such 
a  state  before,  over  anything.  His  lessons 
must  be  suifering  in  consequence;  and  I 
don't  dare  to  think  of  the  number  of  times 
he  has  cut  prayers. 

• 

Hurrah!     I  wish  pencil  and  paper  could 


-f 

54  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

yell  with  joy;  and  then  a  fearful  noise 
would  issue  from  this  note-book  I 

The  Professor  has  sent  me  by  tele 
graph  the  announcement  that  Tom  is  to 
go  with  me.  It  is  brief;  but  I  have  read 
it  with  delight  a  dozen  times :  — 

"  ALL  BIGHT  !  PLEASE  SEND  HIM  HOME 
IMMEDIATELY !  " 

I  know  of  nothing  which  has  ever  given 
me  more  pleasure  than  those  seven  words. 
Tom  has  gone  off  in  the  most  remarkably 
vague  state  of  mind;  and  I  am  going  to 
see  my  colonel  this  evening,  to  find  out 
whether  his  youth  (though,  as  he  is  not 
quite  two  years  younger  than  myself,  per 
haps  I  should  say  our  youth)  will  unfit 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  55 

him  for  the  position  of  second  lieutenant. 
Any  way,  he's  going;  and  that's  enough 
to  make  me  happy  for  the  rest  of  the 
war.  The  only  thing  that  troubles  me 
is  Mooney's  prediction,  which  keeps  ring 
ing  in  my  ears.  I  am  not  to  die  in  battle, 
nor  by  sickness,  but  to  receive  a  dishonor 
able  death  for  a  dishonorable  action.  I 
don't  care  for  the  death  so  much;  but  I 
do  pray  to  God,  that,  while  I  am  in  my 
country's  holy  service  at  least,  I  may  not 
soil  my  soul.  What  a  sentence!  Well, 
I'm  safe  in  knowing  that  no  one  but 
myself  will  ever  see  this  note-book. 


56  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 


y. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 
1. 

MY  DEAH  TOM  :  —  This  letter  will  reach 
you  after  you  have  been  at  home  a  day; 
and  you  must  leave  home  as  soon  as  you 
receive  it,  to  join  my  company.  Our 
colonel  is  splendid,  —  grim  and  grizzled, 
and  the  nerve  of  a  steam-engine.  I  told 
him  about  you,  and  said  I  wanted  you  as 
second  lieutenant.  He  asked  how  much 
you  knew;  and  I  said,  "Little  enough, 
but  more  than  any  other  of  my  vagabonds, 
—  God  bless  them!"  Then  I  told  him 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  57 

about  your  'study  of  Hardee;  and  he 
laughed,  but  asked  me  anxiously  what 
you  thought  of  Hardee.  I  forget  what 
I  said;  but  I  know  yowr  opinion  satisfied 
him  perfectly;  for  he  said  that  your  youth 
was  your  greatest  disqualification.  Then 
I  said  that  the  rough  set  of  my  company 
needed  the  influence  of  an  acknowledged 
gentleman,  as  well  as  the  fellow-feeling 
and  sympathy  which  that  rough  Murphy 
gives  them.  He  agreed  to  that.  Then 
he  spoke  of  the  value,  in  any  rank  of  life, 
of  a  university  education;  —  he  hasn't 
been  through  Harvard,  you  see ;  —  and  I 
agree  with  him.  Then,  when  he  heard 
who  was  your  father,  and  who  was  your 
mother,  he  smiled,  and  said  he  believed 


58  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

in  blood.  I  agreed  again  with  him,  and 
expressed  the  opinion  that  no  one  could 
get  along  very  well  without  it.  Moreover, 
I  said,  that,  if  you  did  not  come  as  an 
officer,  the  whole  company  would  become 
insubordinate;  for  you  always  had  your 
own  way  with  me;  and  it  would  not  do 
for  a  private  to  control  his  captain.  He 
laughed;  but  you  are  sure  of  your  position, 
if  you  come  on  at  once.  We  are  not  a 
swell  regiment,  Tom;  but  my  sword-belt 
and  sash  are  stunning,  for  all  that.  You 
must  begin  work  at  once.  And,  Tom, 
you  must  feel  an  interest  in  Murphy.  It 
will  do  him  good;  and,  through  him,  the 
men.  He  dined  with  me  to-day,  and 
made  an  attempt  to  eat  with  his  fork  in- 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  59 

stead  of  his  knife,  which  was  tolerably 
successful.  He  is  a  little  uneasy  about 
meeting  you,  being  sensible  of  a  certain 
lack  of  polish  in  his  manner;  but  with  you 
as  the  positive  pole,  and  I  as  the  negative, 
we  shall  have  him  duly  magnetized  in 
time. 

I  have  been  out  to  Cambridge,  to  see 
about  destroying  our  old  room;  but  I 
could  not  do  it.  I  sat  down  and  cried 
like  a  towel,  or  a  sponge;  I  couldn't  help 
it.  The  goody  had  profited  by  your 
absence  to  leave  everything  out  of  order; 
for  which  I  thanked  her  in  my  soul. 
The  pictures  that  I  hated,  and  the  pictures 
that  you  didn't  like,  hung  on  the  walls; 
your  dressing-gown  was  in  your  chair; 


60  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

.•  * 

the  globe  in  which  our  departed  goldfish 
once  resided  was  still  swinging  at  the 
window;  and  everything  seemed  like  a 
dream  of  the  past  to  me.  "Well,  I  should 
have  been  a  Jbrute  if  I  hadn't  felt  a  little 
touched. 

O  Tom!  you've  forgotten  to  return 
"  Roderick  Random  "  to  the  library ;  and 
Sibley  will  come  down  on  you  for  a  nice 
lot  of  fines,  see  if  he  don't. 

But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  our 
room.  Bob  Lennox,  who  is  rooming  out 
side,  you  know,  wants  to  come  in  as 
tenant  during  our  absence,  so  that  we  can 
have  everything  just  as  it  always  has 
been,  when  we  come  back  by  next  class- 
day;  by  which  time,  I  am  quite  sure,  the 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  61 

war  will  be  ended;  so  I  agreed  to  his 
proposition,  subject  to  your  objection, 
of  course. 

I  thought,  since  your  educational  ad 
vantages  impressed  the  colonel,  that  a 
copy  of  the  last  rank-list  might  work  in 
your  favor;  but  I  decided,  finally,  that  it 
would  require  too  much  explanation.  In 
the  same  way  I  was  thinking  of  getting 
you  a  certificate  of  moral  character  from 
Dr.  Peabody,  but  was  not  sure  that  he 
had  forgotten  you  sufficiently. 

If  you  wish  to  secure  your  position, 
you  must  be  here  by  Friday  night.  My 
love  to  the  Professor,  and  sincere  regards 
to  your  father  and  mother. 


62  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

In  haste,  but,  as  ever,  your  friend, 

NED. 

2. 

MY    DEAR    OLD   NED :  —  Your    letter 

was  just  like  you,  cross  old  devil  that  you 
are!  I'm  coming,  old  horse;  so  write  my 
name  down  on  your  parchment  immedi 
ately.  The  Professor  starts  this  noon, 
and  says  he  will  wait  over  a  train  for  me 
in  Endeston,  where  he  wants  to  make  a 
visit  this  afternoon;  so  that  I  shall  start 
to-morrow  morning,  and  meet  him  there. 
Mother  says  it's  because  he  has  so  much 
delicacy  of  feeling  that  he  doesn't  want  to 
see  our  parting;  and,  by  Jove!  Ned,  it's 
going  to  be.  hard.  She  doesn't  say  much; 
but  I  know  how  she  suffers;  and  it  makes 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  63 

me  almost  feel  as  though  I  was  wrong  to 
go.  I'll  bet  I'll  have  a  handsomer  sash 
than  you  will,  after  all.  Mother  wants  me 
to  give  you  the  enclosed  letter,  which 
seems  mysterious  to  me;  still  I  obey.  I 
am  in  a  great  hurry,  so  can't  write  any 
more,  but  shall  be  with  you  on  Friday. 
Yours,  TOM. 

3. 

MY  DEAR  NED, —  For  though  I  have 
never  yet  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
at  our  house,  I  still  feel  as  though  I  knew 
you,  Tom  has  said  so  much  to  me  of  you, 
and  has  shown  so  much  more  than  he  has 
said.  I  have  felt  very  thankful  that  you 
were  his  friend;  and  now  that  this  terrible 


64  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

and  dreadful  parting  is  to  separate  me 
from  my  only  child,  I  am  glad  that  you 
are  to  be  with  him.  I  know  the  cause 
that  calls  him,  and  I  feel  that  it  is  better 
for  him  to  go  than  to  stay;  but,  though  I 
say  yes,  I  say  it  with  an  agony  beyond 
your  comprehension.  I  want  your  promise 
that  you  will  not  leave  Tom  during  the 
time  that  your  country  may  need  you; 
that  you  will  suffer  nothing  but  death  to 
separate  you;  that  you  will  refuse  pro 
motion  and  honor,  if  it  is  to  part  you  from 
him;  that  you  will  stay  by  his  side  in  the 
progress  of  the  battles  that  may  come.  It 
is  through  your  influence  that  he  goes;  I 
must  look  to  you  for  his  safety.  So  make 
me  this  promise;  and,  in  return,  what  can 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  65 

I  give?  what  can  I  say?  This  only:  that 
my  house  shall  be  your  home;  and  that  I 
shall  feel  as  if  I  had  two  sons  instead  of 
one. 


(56  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 


VI. 

ONE   TEAR   AFTER. 

« 
"  A  great  hot  plain  from  sea  to  mountain  spread ; 

Through  it  a  level  river  slowly  dra\ra : 
He  moved  with  a  vast  crowd,  and  at  its  head 
Streamed  banners  like  the  dawn." 

A  BAKE  room,  the  dead  whiteness  of 
whose  plastered  wall  is  only  relieved  by 
a  coarsely  colored  print  of  the  "Virgin 
Mary  in  blue  and  scarlet,  which  hangs  in 
a  dingy  gilt  frame  on  the  wall  at  the 
head  of  the  bed.  A  crack  in  the  glass 
has  relieved  the  features  of  the  Virgin  of 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  67 

their  ordinary  expression  of  insipidity,  but 
has  substituted  therefor  a  look  of  malev 
olence  quite  unpleasant  to  see.  Fortu 
nately  for  the  man  who  lies,  heavily 
sleeping,  upon  the  pallet  bed,  this  picture 
is  not  where  his  eyes  can  rest  upon  it. 
Beside  the  bed  are  two  little  stools,  which 
constitute  all  the  furniture  of  the  room, 
and,  indeed,  all  that  it  is  well  capable  of 
containing;  for  so  cramped  and  narrow 
are  its  dimensions,  that  it  seems  to  be 
scarcely  more  than  a  closet  with  a  window 
in  it.  Through  the  half-open  door-way, 
however,  can  be  seen  long  lines  of  beds, 
with  the  quiet  figures  of  nurses  and 
physicians  passing  back  and  forth  through 
the  ward. 


68  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

Two  people  entered  carefully  and  noise 
lessly  through  the  open  door-way,  —  one 
evidently  an  army  physician;  the  other, 
in  -a  captain's  uniform  now,  was  Tom, 
bronzed  and  sunburnt,  but  the  same  care 
less,  light-hearted  boy  as  when  he  left 
Cambridge  one  year  before.  There  was 
a  look  of  anxiety  on  his  face  now,  how 
ever,  as  he  bent  over  the  sleeping  figure 
and  asked : — 

"How  is  he  to-day,  doctor?  " 

"Improving  fast,  captain,"  was  the 
reply.  "His  sleep  is  splendid,  —  just 
what  I've  been  hoping  for.  If  he  wakes 
peacefully,  and  is  conscious,  he  is  likely 
to  be  all  right  again  before  long;  and  I 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  G9 

« 

shouldn't  wonder  if  he  could  rejoin  his 
regiment  in  a  week  or  ten  days.'' 

"  Thank  Heaven!  "  said  Tom. 

"And  his  physique,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  This  colonel  of  yours  is  a  tough  fellow, 
and  a  brave  man;  yet,  if  he  should  die 
to-morrow,  I  should  simply  put  down  his 
name,  and  never  think,  of  him  again.  My 
note-book  is  full  of  dead  men's  names,  — 
just  a  mention  and  nothing  more.  Oh! 
by  the  way,  a  gentleman  called  here  for 
you  yesterday  afternoon,  and  said  he 
would  come  again  this  morning.  Here  is 
his  card." 

"Why,"  cried  Tom,  "it  is  the  Pro 
fessor.  See  that  he  is  shown  up  to  me 
when  he  comes,  won't  you?" 


70  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

"Oh,  certainly!  I'll  attend  to  that,"  said 
the  doctor,  and  he  rushed  softly  away. 

Tom  sat  down  by  the  side  of  the  bed, 
and  looked  at  his  friend's  face.  It  had 
changed  greatly,  much  more  than  his, 
since  they  left  Cambridge.  The  forehead 
was  marked  now  with  heavy  lines,  and 
the  full  beard  made  it  seem  like  the 
countenance  of  a  man  of  forty.  So  old 
can  even  a  boy  grow  in  a  year.  Ned  had 
trained  himself,  with  great  effort,  to  un 
questioning  obedience.  His  criticism  had 
been  only  upon  those  to  whom  he  gave 
his  orders,  and  he  had  struggled  not  to 
form  an  opinion  on  those  to  whom  his 
obedience  was  due;  thus  he  had  become 
an  admirable  officer.  Tom  sat  there  look- 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  71 

ing  at  Ned,  and  thinking,  thinking,  he 
could  scarcely  tell  of  what,  until  he  felt 
a  hand  touch  his  shoulder.  He  turned 
and  saw  the  Professor,  and  fairly  hugged 
him  in  his  delight. 

K  So  I  have  found  you  at  last,  Tom," 
said  the  Professor. 

"  Just  think,  sir,"  said  Tom ;  w  it  is  a 
year  now  since  I  have  seen  you." 

"  And  the  end  seems  as  far  off  as  ever,'' 
said  the  Professor. 

"  Don't  say  that,"  said  Tom,  w  because 
sometimes,  you  know,  I  have  to  try  very 
hard  not  to  think  so  myself." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  Professor,  "  you  are 
still  the  same,  I  see,  and  I  am  the  same; 
and  Ned,— is  this  Ned?" 


72  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

:?  Yes,  poor  fellow,"  said  Tom:  "he  has 
been  sick  for  nearly  ten  days." 

"But  how  came  you  to  be  with  him?" 
asked  the  Professor.  :e  Why  are  you  not 
with  your  regiment  ?  " 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Tom,  "  and  I'll  tell  you; 
but  don't  speak  too  loud,  on  his  account, 
you  know ! " 

"  Among  the  wonderful  effects  of  the 
war,"  said  the  Professor,  in  a  didactic 
manner,  "  may  be  mentioned  the  fact  that 
it  has  made  Tom  thoughtful  and  consider 
ate.  Well,  go  on !  " 

K  That  sounds  just  like  you,"  said  Tom. 
15 "Well,  the  explanation  is  simply  this: 
that  I  had  a  leave  of  absence  for  a  fort- 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  73 

night  given  me,  and  just  at  its  beginning 
Ned  was  taken  sick." 

"  So  you  remained  here  with  him,  and 
didn't  go  home?  "  asked  the  Professor. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Tom,  simply.  "  I 
couldn't  leave  him  after  all  we  had  been 
through  together." 

:?What  did  your  mother  say?"  asked 
the  Professor.  :?  "Wasn't  she  disap 
pointed?" 

"Yes,  she  was  disappointed,"  said  Tom; 
w  but  she  wrote  and  said  that  I  was  right. 
It  was  hard  on  Ned,  and  hard  on  me,  and 
hard  on  her,  especially  as  I  haven't  been 
home  for  a  year.  You  see,  in  my  last 
leave  of  absence,  there  was  some  of  the 
worst  fighting  that  we  have  been  in,  and 


74  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

it  would  have  seemed  cowardly  if  I  had 
gone  then." 

K  It  is  hard,  Tom,"  said  the  Professor ; 
"  but  you  have  done  nobly.  But  if  I  stay 
here  with  Ned  now,  can't  you  run  up 
North?  " 

"No,"  said  Tom;  "it's  impossible.  My 
leave  of  absence,  you  see,  expires  in  two 
days,  so  that  I  shall  have  to  give  up  going 
home  at  all  for  the  present.  I'm  afraid 
now  that  Ned  won't  be  well  enough  to 
satisfy  me  when  I  start  for  the  front. 
He's  been  perfectly  delirious,  and  yester 
day  the  doctor  said  was  the  turning-point. 
If  he  only  is  conscious  when  he  wakes 
from  this  sleep!  Do  you  think  he  has 
changed?" 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  75 

" Changed!"  said  the  Professor;  "he's 
not  the  same  boy,  —  he's  not  a  boy  at  all. 
What  a  developing  agent  this  terrible  war 
is!" 

.     "And  now  you    must  tell    me    about 
Harvard,"  said  Tom. 

:?"Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  Professor. 
"  I  have  one  or  two  questions  to  ask  you 
first.  I  want  to  hear  about  this  new  rebel 
general  who  is  making  such  havoc  with 
us." 

"Stonewall  Jackson,  you  mean,"  said 
Tom.  "No  one  knows  much  about  him; 
but  Ned  declares  that  he  is,  thus  far,  the 
most  striking  figure  of  the  rebellion. 
Maliff,  who  says  he  knew  him  when  he 
was  in  command  at  Fort  Hamilton,  before 


76  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

the  war,  showed  us  a  picture  of  him,  in 
which  he  looked  simply  prim  and  neat. 
The  war  has  probably  changed  all  that. 
I  think  we  are  all  a  little  afraid  of  him, 
and  hope  to  meet  him  in  battle  soon. 
Some  of  the  men  think  he  is  a  supernatural 
being." 

?  The   Hibernian   element,   I   suppose," 
said  the  Professor. 

"Exactly,"  said  Tom. 

"And   now  tell   me   some   more   about 
yourselves,"  continued  the  Professor. 

*  "Well,    about    ourselves,"    said    Tom, 

4 

"there  is  little  to  say.  I  am  a  captain, 
as  you  see;  and  Ned  is  a  lieutenant- 
colonel,  and  commands  *our  regiment,  — 
or  what  there  is  left  of  it  now.  We  might 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  77 

both  have  been  promoted  before  this;  but 
we  were  bound  to  stick  together,  and  so 
we  have,  in  all  sorts  of  places  too." 

"I  have  heard,"  said  the  Professor, 
"how  you  have  saved  Ned's  life." 

w  Nonsense !  "  said  Tom.  "  He  has  done 
just  as  much  for  me.  We  are  together, 
and  we  fight  and  quarrel,  just  as  we  did 
at  Harvard;  and,  when  the  war  is  over, 
Ned  insists  that  we  are  to  go  back  to 
Cambridge  for  a  year  longer,  so  as  to  get 
our  degrees;  a  plan  which  I  don't  alto 
gether  fancy." 

"I  do,"  said  the  Professor;  "it  will  be 
delightful  to  me  to  have  the  opportunity 
of  marking  the  misdemeanors  of  a  colonel, 


78  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

and  perhaps  of  even  suspending  a  cap 
tain." 

"That  sounds  just  like  you,  and  like 
old  times,"  said  Tom;  "and  now  do  please 
tell  me  all  about  Harvard." 

:?Yes,"  said  Ned's  voice  feebly,  from 
the  bed,  "please  let  us  hear  the  Harvard 
news."  And  so  the  Professor  began. 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  79 


yn. 

NED'S  NOTE-BOOK. 

TOM  has  gone,  but  the  Professor  is 
here  still.  I  do  not  mean  to  stay  long,  — 
I  shall  rejoin  my  regiment  in  a  day  or 
two.  In  the  mean  time,  I  amuse  myself, 
when  the  Professor  is  not  here,  by  scrib 
bling  in  my  note-book  and  reading  it 
over.  Such  a  book  as  it  is  now!  My 
own  thoughts  begin  it;  then,  as  we  reach 
the  battle-fields,  I  have  not  time  to  think, 
much  less  to  put  my  thoughts  in  writing; 
then  comes  a  record  of  deaths,  —  poor 
fellows,  who  wanted  me  to  write  to  their 


80  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

homes.  How  curious  that  record  is! 
Men  whom  I  didn't  care  for  grew  heroic 
to  me  in  those  first  days,  —  when  death 
was  a  novelty,  —  and  I  am  minute  in  my 
descriptions  of  them.  Then,  as  the  deaths 
become  more  and  more  frequent,  my  de 
scriptions  grow  shorter,  and  I  give  a  line 
only,  even  to  those  whom  I  really  loved. 
It  is  strange  reading,  this  note-book  of 
mine! 

Here  is  an  item  which  I  find  in  my 
note-book :  "  Quarrelled  with  Tom !  "  How 
we  have  fought,  to  be  sure!  I  don't 
know  what  this  quarrel  was  about,  but  I 
know  how  it  ended.  We  didn't  speak 
for  two  days,  and  then  came  another  at 
tack  from  that  restless  creature,  Stonewall 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  81 

Jackson.  It  was  such  a  lovely  day, — 
fresh  and  spring-like,  but  it  soon  grew 
hot  and  dusty.  Every  once  in  a  while  a 
bullet  would  whiz  past;  I  could  hear 
the  rumble  of  the  artillery,  and  I  was 
terribly  thirsty.  I  didn't  see  Tom,  but  I 
knew  he  was  near,  —  we  always  kept  close 
together  at  such  times;  —  still,  if  I  had 
seen  him,  I  wouldn't  have  spoken  to  him. 
My  horse  had  been  shot, from  under  me, 
and  I  had  cut  open  the  head  of  the  man 
who  did  it;  it  seems  strange,  now  that 
it  is  all  over,  that  I  could  do  such  a  thing. 
Suddenly  I  saw  the  barrel  of  a  rifle 
pointed  at  me.  The  face  of  the  man  who 
was  pointing  it  peered  from  behind  a  tree 
with  a  malicious  grin.  I  felt  that  death 


82  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

was  near,  and  the  feeling  was  not  pleasant. 
However,  the  situation  had  an  element 
of  absurdity  in  it,  and  that  made  me  laugh 
a  little.  The  man  who  was  going  to  kill 
me  laughed  too.  I  heard  a  little  click, 
a  report,  and  his  gun  went  up,  and  he 
went  down.  Tom  had  shot  him. 

"  Tom,"  said  I,  with  some  feeling,  "  you 
have  saved  my  life." 

:t  There!"  said  he,  triumphantly,  "you 
spoke  first." 

I  saw  that  I  had,  and  I  was  dreadfully 
provoked.  However,  he  admitted  that 
he  was  wrong;  and  so,  under  the  circum 
stances,  I  decided  that  a  reconciliation 
was  advisable. 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  83 

The  Professor  has  been  here  to-day.  He 
is  the  most  delightful  companion  I  know; 
and,  what  is  his  special  charm,  he  really 
believes  that  he  is  hard  and  cynical,  the 
tender-hearted  old  baby !  I  know  that  he 
fancies  himself  a  second  Diogenes.  His 
liking  for  us  boys  is  very  queer  to  me. 
Tom  is  his  pet,  but  he  prefers  to  talk  to 
me.  He  discusses  Tom  with  me,  and  then 
he  discusses  me,  just  as  if  I  were  a  third 
person.  To-day  he  told  me  I  was  a  mass 
of  selfish  pettinesses.  I  don't  think  that 
was  his  word,  but  that  was  what  he  meant; 
"  and  yet,"  said  he,  "  you  are  capable  of 
heroic  generosity."  I  always  know  that 
part  of  what  the  Professor  says  is  said  in 
earnest;  but  I  am  never  quite  sure  Avhat 


84  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

part  it  is.  He  doesn't  fatigue  me,  and 
doesn't  excite  me,  and  it  is  well  for  me 
that  he  is  here;  still,  I  am  impatient  to  get 
back  again.  He  has  told  me  about  Tom's 
staying  with  me,  instead  of  going  home. 
I  don't  know  what  to  say  about  it;  I  don't 
know  what  to  think.  It  makes  me  want 
to  die  for  him;  nothing  else  that  I  can  do 
seems  sufficient.  "When  this  war  is  over, 
I  suppose  Tom  will  marry  and  forget  me. 
I  never  will  go  near  his  wife  —  I  shall 
hate  her.  Now,  that  is  a  very  silly  thing 
for  a  lieutenant-colonel  to  write.  I  don't 
care,  it  is  true. 

I  wonder  if  I  am  so  very  selfish,  after 
all.     I  like  refinement  and  elegance,  and 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  85 

I  hate  dirt;  and  I  do  like  to  have  people 
care  for  me  and  do  things  to  oblige  me. 
But  my  first  thought  is  not  always  of  my 
self;  and  I  don't  think  I  am  unjust  to 
others,  because  of  myself.  And,  if  I  de 
sire  the  sympathy  and  appreciation  of 
others,  I  am  sure  it  is  not  wrong. 

"  C'est  qu?un  coeur  Men  atteint  veut  gy?on 
soit  tout  a  lui" 

I  can't  remember,  though,  just  now,  a 
single  unselfish  thing  that  I  have  ever 
done,  unless  it  was  giving  some  of  the 
fruit  and  jelly  that  the  Professor  brought 
me  yesterday  to  a  poor  fellow  with  hungry 
eyes,  whom  I  saw  glaring  at  them  through 
the  door.  That  wouldn't  have  been  gen 
erous,  either,  if  he  hadn't  been  a  rebel. 


86  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

Giving  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy  is 
the  only  generous  action  that  I  can  dis 
cover  of  mine,  after  all  my  self-analysis. 
Confound  self-analysis,  any  way!  It  is 
only  another  form  of  selfishness,  mingled 
with  morbid  conceit.  If  I  did  what  I 
ought  to  do,  without  thinking  about  my 
self  at  all,  it  would  be  better  for  me  ;  but 
I  haven't  anything  to  do  just  now,  except 
scribble  away  here,  and  it  is  dreadfully 
stupid. 

How  talking  with  the  Professor  has  set 
me  to  thinking  of  Harvard  again! 


that  the  lights  are  glimmering  at  intervals 
through  the  ward,  I  can  see  the  yard,  with 
Holworthy  and  Stoughton.  and  Hollis 
beaming  away  from  their  windows  at  each 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  87 

other,  and  Massachusetts  standing  a  little 
apart,  as  becomes  its  greater  age,  but 
benignant  in  its  seclusion.  I  hear  the 
voices  of  singing  in  the  yard,  on  the  steps, 
and  under  the  trees;  I  can  see  fellows 
sitting  round  the  tables  in  their  rooms, 
studying  and  not  studying;  I  can  hear 
recitations  made  to  the  different  professors 
and  tutors;  and  just  as  the  bell  for  morn 
ing  prayers,  which  I  still  hate,  begins  to 
clang  upon  my  memory,  I  remember  that 
I  am  here  in  a  hospital,  while  we  are  still 
fighting  and  killing  each  other  for  the 
sake  of  the  country  that  has  given  us  all 
we  enjoy.  I  shall  be  out  soon,  I  know. 
There  is  always  good  prospect  of  a  battle 
when  I  feel  this  way;  and  yet  I  do 


88  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

horribly  loathe  the  tint  of  blood  which 
seemed  to  rest  on  everything  I  have  seen 
or  dreamed  of  for  a  year  past.  How  I 
hate  war,  and  yet  how  wholly  I  am 

absorbed   in   it!     I  am   getting   feverish; 

* 
I  shall  write  no  more  to-day. 

In  looking  over  my  note-book,  I  find 
something  which,  luckily  for  me,  I  had 
almost  forgotten;  and  that  is,  the  predic 
tion  of  my  friend  Mooney.  Poor  idiot! 
he  was  shot  the  first  time  that  we  were 
tinder  fire.  How  pleasant  it  would  have 
been  for  me  in  all  the  work  I  have  been 
through,  if  I  had  remembered  that  proph 
ecy!  How  it  would  have  aided  my  recov 
ery  in  my  sickness,  if  I  had  been  haunted 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  89 

by  those  words!  I  am  to  meet  a  dis 
honorable  death  for  a  dishonorable  action, 
am  I?  The  only  dishonorable  action  I 
can  commit  is  to  go  over  to  Stonewall  Jack 
son,  and  learn  how  to  fight.  By  Jove !  I  do 
admire  that  man.  He  is  what  too  few 
officers  on  either  the  Union  or  the  Rebel 
sides  are,  unselfish  and  in  earnest.  But 
I  don't  think  that  I  shall  join  him,  for  all 
that;  and,  if  I  did,  I  should  not  be  likely 
to  meet  with  death,  —  his  luck  and  his 
pluck  would  take  me  through. 

The  Professor  has  confided  to  me  a  plan 
of  his,  which  delights  me.  He  says  that 
he  will  go  Xorth,  and  bring  Tom's  mother 
on  to  Washington,  if  her  health  permits. 


90  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

As  Tom's  father  is  in  Europe  at  present, 
and  as  it  would  be  highly  unpleasant,  to 
use  the  mildest  term,  for  a  lady  to  travel 
alone  to  Washington,  knowing  nothing  of 
the  place  and  its  peculiarities,  it  is  very 
thoughtful  and  very  kind,  and  something 
more,  in  the  Professor  to  do  this.  Then 
Tom  can  run  up  to  Washington  for  a  day 
or  two  to  see  her,  poor  fellow !  and  all,  or 
rather  part,  of  his  great  generosity  will  be 
rewarded.  The  Professor  is  a  brick  to  think 
of  it;  and  I  have  made  him  promise  to  start 

to-morrow.     And  when  he  goes,  I   shall 

• 
go  too,  only  in  the  other  direction.     How 

happy  this  will  make  Tom! 

I  don't  know  what  makes  me  think  of 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  91 

our  class-day  now,  but  I  do  wonder  who 
had  the  rooms  which  Tom  and  I  engaged 
for  our  spread.  Perhaps  it's  the  contrast 
between  salad  and  strawberries,  and  hard 
tack  and  corned-beef;  though  now  every 
thing  seems  to  me  to  be  saturated  with 
gruel.  I  wonder  if  Tiny  Snow  was  at  class- 
day  this  year!  She  was  an  object  of  awe  to 
me  in  Freshman  year;  then  I  despised  the 
sex  when  I  was  a  Sophomore ;  and  then  in 
Junior  year  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  her. 
She  had  a  way  of  drooping  her  head  a 
little;  and  then,  with  a  sort  of  shy  little 
gulp,  raising  it,  and  making  her  eyes 
childlike  and  plaintive.  It  was  quite 
pleasant,  even  after  familiarity  with  it  had 
destroyed  its  novelty.  I  wrote  some  ver- 


92  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

ses  to  her  once,  and  sent  them  to  "The 
Harvard  Magazine ; "  but  they  came  into 
the  hands  of  an  editor  who  was  gone  on 
her  himself,  and  he  very  properly  rejected 
them.  Once  I  showed  Tiny,  quite  by 
accident,  the  Etruscan  locket  which  I 
got  abroad,  and  which  Tom  admired  so 
much  that  I  had  his  initials  cut  on  it  to 
give  to  him. 

"  Oh,  how  lovely ! "  said  Tiny.  "  "Who  is 
it  for?  " 

"Don't  you  see  the  initials?"  said  I. 

c  T.  S,"  said  she,  innocently;  "  who  can 
it  be?  " 

I  thought  there  seemed  something  like 
a  blush  upon  her  cheek  as  she  spoke;  but 


TWO   COLLEGE   FKIENDS.  93 

I  told  her  that  T.  S.  was  some  one  I  cared 
a  great  deal  about. 

"Is  she  pretty?"  asked  Tiny. 

"She!  "I  answered;  "it  isn't  any  girl; 
it's  my  chum,  Tom,  you  know." 

Then  she  really  colored;  and  a  little 
while  afterward  I  remembered  that  those 
were  her  initials.  How  she  must  have 
hated  me,  —  perhaps ! 

I  have  eaten  a  real  breakfast  at  last,  and 
am  upon  my  feet  again.  The  Professor 
has  gone,  and  I  am  going  at  once.  How 
curious  it  will  be  to  come  out  of  this 
dream,  and  go  back  again  to  work  !  The 
doctor  begs  me  not  to  get  excited,  and 
yet  tells  me  that  in  three  days  I  shall  be 


94  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

as  well  as  ever.  I  have  been  excited  for 
a  year  now,  and  I  go  to  the  front  this  very 
afternoon.  I  am  rather  thin,  and  my  shirt 
feels  something  like  an  air-box;  but  I  shall 
get  over  all  that  soon.  We  are  to  make 
an  attack  before  long,  I  understand. 

I  am  back  in  camp.  This  is  the  last 
entry  that  I  shall  make  in  this  note-book 
for  some  time  to  come.  I  am  alarmed  a 
little  about  Tom.  I  think  he  is  going  to 
be  sick;  he  seems  excited  and  feverish, 
and  yet  dull.  However,  he  has  bright 
ened  up  wonderfully  since  I  told  him 
about  the  Professor's  intention;  and  I  am 
not  sure  but  that  it  was  a  dreadful  home 
sickness  that  oppressed  him  when  I  first 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  95 

met  him.  He  won't  see  a  doctor;  he 
laughs  the  idea  to  scorn,  and  says  he  is 
only  tired  and  overworked,  and  that,  if  I 
can  manage  to  secure  him  a  little  rest,  he 
will  soon  be  all  right.  But  he  is  dying  to 
see  his  mother,  he  confesses  to  me,  and  I 
am  not  surprised  to  hear  it. 

I  said  that  this  is  the  last  entry  I  shall 
make  here.  I  am  not  sure  now  but  that 
these  are  the  last  words  which  I  shall  ever 
write.  I  take  charge  of  a  small  expedition 
to-night,  with  men  whom  I  have  per 
sonally  selected  for  the  purpose;  and  we 
are  to  destroy  the  bridge  above  here. 
It  must  be  done  at  once.  Jackson  is 
near  there,  and  we  expect  and  fear  an 
attack  from  him.  The  work  is  delicate 


96  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

rather  than  difficult;  but  it  is  suffi 
ciently  dangerous  for  me  to  commend 
my  soul  to  God  before  I  start  upon  it. 
Good-by,  little  note-book,  perhaps  forever. 
If  Tom  and  I  return  safe,  —  and  Tom 
will,  I  am  sure,  —  why,  then,  perhaps,  I 
may  tell  you  all  about  this  coming  night's 
work;  but,  if  not,  you  will  be  destroyed, 
unread;  and  so  farewell. 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  97 


yin. 

MIDNIGHT. 

"  Then  came  a  blinding  flash,  a  deafening  roar, 

And  dissonant  cries  of  terror  and  dismay; 
Blood  trickled  down  the  river's  reedy  shore," 
And  with  the  dead  he  lay. 

A  STARLIT  sky,  dead  silence  all  around, 
only  the  river's  murmur  breaking  it.  The 
moonbeams  shining  on  the  forest-path 
mark  all  the  shadows  with  a  dazzling 
light,  bringing  weird  and  fantastic  out 
lines  forth,  where  brush  and  hedges  line 
the  dusty  road,  and  making  the  parched 
fields,  almost  destitute  of  vegetation,  shine 


98  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

like  burnished  sheets  of  dead  white  light. 
And  along  this  road  came  slowly,  with 
muffled  tramp,  a  little  body  of  men,  their 
dark  figures  darker  by  contrast  with  the 
gleaming  barrels  of  their  rifles,  which  the 
moonlight  seemed  to  tinge  with  silvery 
fire.  They  came  along  so  quietly,  so 
noiselessly,  now  hidden  from  view  in  a 
curve  of  the  road,  and  now  appearing 
again.  And  still  all  was  quiet. 

And  then  a  little  tongue  of  flame  ran 
quickly  and  noiselessly  up  into  the  black 
darkness;  and  in  a  moment  more  all  was 
blaze  and  smoke.  The  work  was  done,  — 
the  .bridge  was  destroyed. 

Down  in  the  road  around  the  bridge 
the  men  were  grouped,  —  the  fire  giving 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  99 

them  a  ruddy  coloring,  —  a  tint  of  blood. 
Two  figures  were  especially  prominent, 
and  seemed  to  be  directing  their  move 
ments. 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  Ned,  "does  this 
remind  you  of  bonfires  in  the  yard  at 
Cambridge?" 

"  Not  much,"  said  Tom,  dispiritedly. 

:fWhy,  Tom,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you?"  asked  Ned,  anxiously. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Tom.  "I  feel 
nervous  and  apprehensive." 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  let  you  come  with 
me,"  said  Ned.  "  It  was  weak  and  selfish 
in  me  to  consent.  You  are  feverish  and 
excited,  Tom;  and  you  ought  to  have 
rested.' 


100  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

w  Just  as  if  I  was  going  to  let  you  go 
off  into  danger  without  me !  "  said  Tom. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  care 
you  take  of  me,"  said  JSTed;  "but  you  see 
the  work  has  been  done  without  any 
trouble.  The  rebs  are  two  miles  away; 
and  this  will  prevent  them  from  making 
a  detour,  and  getting  in  our  rear  if  we 
advance." 

w!Ned,"  said  Tom,  "do  you  think  that 
the  Professor  will  bring  my  mother  on  to 
"Washington  with  him?'' 

*  Think!"  said  JSTed.  "I  am  sure  he 
will,  and  that,  when  we  return  to  camp, 
we  shall  find  a  message  from  her  to  you. 
Perhaps  he'll  charter  a  train,  and  bring  on 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  101 

a  host  of  your  female  admirers,  victorious 
masher  of  female  hearts !  " 

"  Don't  rough  me,  Ned,"  said  Tom. 

T  Well,  now  I  know  that  you  are  going 
to  be  sick,  Tom,"  said  Ned,  "when  you 
take  that  piteous  tone,  instead  of  answer 
ing  me  back.  By  Jove,  there  goes  a 
beam,  crash;  and  look,  the  fire  has  entirely 
died  out  of  the  other.  "We  can't  leave  the 
work  half  done  in  this  way,  we  must  hurry 
and  finish  it.  The  rebel  pickets  are 
probably  back  in  camp  by  this  time.  Tom, 
order  four  men,  and  row  that  boat  over  to 
the  other  side  for  me." 

"Why,  Ned!"  asked  Tom,  "what  are 
you  going  to  do?" 

f  The  fire  has  died  out  over  there,"  said 


102  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

Ned,  w  and  the  other  beam  is  left.  Here, 
O'Brien,  I  want  that  axe.  I  am  going  to 
cross  on  it,  and  cut  it  off  where  it  is 
charred.  Get  the  boat  ready  at  once, 
captain." 

"But,  Ned,  that  is  very  dangerous," 
interposed  Tom. 

w  Obey  orders !  "  said  Ned,  impatiently 
and  angrily;  and  Tom,  with  a  reproachful 
glance,  left  him  at  once. 

Only  a  slender  beam  now  hung  over 
the  flood.  On  this  Ned  started  to  cross, 
balancing  himself  with  the  axe,  the  group 
of  men  watching  him  eagerly.  An  inch 
to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  and  all  was  lost. 
The  flames -were  decreasing  now,  yet  still 
the  beam  stood.  Then  the  boat  started 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.          103 

out  slowly  across  the  river.  The  attention 
of  all  was  turned  towards  it  for  an  instant; 
and,  in  the  mean  time,  Ked  had  almost 
gained  the  other  side.  One,  two,  three 
blows  on  the  charred  part  of  the  beam, 
and  it  wavered  and  fell  with  a  crash  as 
]S"ed  leaped  lightly  upon  the  bank.  He 
waved  his  hand  triumphantly,  and  ran 
down  to  meet  the  boat,  which,  more  than 
half  way  across,  was  now  struggling  with 
the  powerful  current,  and  yet  was  visibly 
Hearing  the  shore.  He  waved  his  cap, 
and  started  down  the  river-bank  into  the 
copse  to  meet  it.  Only  two  steps,  two 
little  steps  down  the  bank,  and  from  the 
tangled  foliage  a  powerful  hand  grasped 
his  throat,  the  cold  barrel  of  a  pistol  was 


104  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

pressed  to  his   cheek,    and  a  voice   fairly 
hissed  the  whisper  into  his  ears :  — 
"  Silence!  or  you  are  a  dead  man!  " 
And  for   reply,  with  one  mighty  effort, 
he  threw  off  the  hand;  and,  as  the  pistol- 
shot  resounded  through  the  air,  his  voice 
rang   out,   clear   and   strong   on   the  still 
night :  — 

w  BACK   TO  THE  CAMP,  FOR  YOUR  LIVES ! 

THE  ENEMY  is  UPON  us ! " 

In  an  instant  more  he  was  seized;  and 
one  of  the  men  who  had  crept  upon  him 
said :  — 

"Damn  you,  you  hound!  you  have 
spoiled  all  our  plans." 

Then  Ned  smiled  serenely,  and  looked 
calmly  at  the  man. 


'  TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         105 

"  But  we  shall  bag  four  or  five  of  them, 
any  way,  lieutenant,"  said  one  of  the  men, 
— "  those  in  the  boat  down  there." 

And  then  Ned  started  and  turned  pale; 
but  it  was  too  late.  Tom  and  two  others 
had  already  landed,  and  were  in  the  hands 
of  two  or  three  of  the  rebel  pickets. 

"O  Tom,  Tom!"  cried  Ned,  "why  did 
you  not  turn  back? " 

But  Tom  did  not  answer,  and  only 
stared  vacantly  and  stupidly  at  Ned. 

"  The  captain's  sick,  sir,"  said  one  of 
the  men  who  had  been  captured. 

"Drunk,  more  likely,"  said  the  rebel 
lieutenant,  with  an  oath. 

"  lie  was  taken  in  the  boat,"  continued 
the  man. 


106  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

"  It  is  as  I  feared,"  said  Ned;  "  he  is  in 
a  high  fever,  as  I  was."  At  this  the  rebel 
lieutenant  drew  back.  w  Oh !  it  is  not 
contagious,"  said  Ned,  with  a  world  of 
scorn  in  his  voice;  and  the  rebel  lieutenant 
resumed  his  former  position. 

"Tom,  don't  you  know  me?"  asked 
Ned.  "  Oh,  what  will  be  the  end  of  this, 
I  wonder!  " 

"Libby  Prison,"  sneered  the  lieu 
tenant. 

w  Tell  my  mother  to  come  and  see  me 
at  Libby,"  said  Tom,  half  stupidly.  Upon 
this  the  chorus  naturally  raised  an  insult 
ing  shout,  and  one  poor  brute  indulged 
in  some  ribald  remark.  In  an  instant, 
Tom  had  struck  him  across  the  face;  in 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         107 

another  instant,  Tom  himself  lay  on  the 
ground  senseless  and  stunned  by  a  blow 
from  the  butt  of  one  of  the  rebel  rifles.  It 
was  at  this  instant,  while  Ned  in  anguish 
and  desperation  was  struggling  with  his 
captors,  that  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs 
was  heard  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
three  or  four  officers  rode  quickly  up. 
The  central  figure  of  the  group  was  a 
compact,  sinewy  man,  of  medium  height, 
with  a  full,  untrimmed  beard,  and  a  face, 
as  Ned  could  see  by  the  dim  light  of  the 
fire  which  some  of  the  men  were  now 
lighting  a  little  distance  off,  furrowed  with 
the  lines  of  thought,  of  care,  and  anxiety. 
The  eyes  were  large  and  expressive,  the 
features  clearly  cut,  and  the  mouth,  even 


108         TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS. 

though  partially  hidden  by  a  thin  mus 
tache,  showed  indomitable  firmness.  A 
grand  head  in  many  respects,  and  one 
which  made  it  evident  to  iNed  that  he  was 
in  the  presence  of  the  dreadetl  Stonewall 
Jackson. 

?  What  is  the  matter  here?"  he  asked 
briefly. 

?  They  have  destroyed  the  bridge, 
general,"  was  the  reply. 

Stonewall  Jackson  turned,  and  whis- 
perered  to  one  of  his  companions  who 
rode  away.  Then  he  continued :  — 

"Are  these  prisoners?  " 

?  Yes,  general,"  said  the  lieutenant,  — 
"  these  four." 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         109 

"A  lieutenant-colonel,  I  see?"  said 
Stonewall  Jackson. 

Ned  simply  bowed  in  reply.  Then 
Stonewall  Jackson  looked  at  Tom,  and 
said :  — 

"  And  who  is  this  here  ?  " 

At  this,  Tom  half  raised  himself,  and 
then  fell  back  again. 

"May  I  tell  you? "  asked  Ned. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Jackson ;  "  what  is 
it?  " 

"  He  is  in  a  high  fever,  which  has  been 
coming  on  for  some  time,"  said  Ned;  "  and 
one  of  these  men  struck  him  with  the  butt 
of  his  rifle." 

"After  he  had  surrendered?"  asked 
Jackson. 


110  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

"After  he  was  taken  prisoner,"  said 
Ned. 

"  He  shall  be  taken  to  camp  and  at 
tended  to,"  said  Stonewall  Jackson.  But, 
when  they  touched  Tom,  he  uttered  a 
sharp  cry  of  pain;  and  the  men  drew 
back. 

:cWe  will  let  him  remain  here,  then," 
said  Jackson,  after  a  word  or  two  more 
with  his  companions.  "Lieutenant,  you 
will  keep  watch  here,  and  down  the  river's 
bank,  until  daybreak,  and  then  report  at 
head-quarters  to  me  with  the  prisoners. 
As  for  you,  sir,"  he  continued,  addressing 
Ned,  "you  can  remain  here  through  the 
night  with  your  friend,  —  under  parole,  of 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  Ill 

course,  -not  to  break  your  bonds.  Do 
you  accept?  " 

"Most  thankfully,"  said  Ned,  with  a 
gratitude  in  his  voice  and  accent  far  be 
yond  what  his  words  expressed. 

"  He  is  a  handsome  boy,"  said  Jackson, 
looking  again  at  the  still  unconscious 
Tom.  "Keep  the  other  prisoners  under 
strict  guard,  lieutenant;  but  treat  this 
gentleman  who  is  under  parole  with  all 
possible  respect.  Hark!  what  is  that? 
Midnight!" 

And,  as  he  paused  to  listen,  the  distant 
sound  of  bells  rang  faintly  out  upon  the 
air.  Midnight;  and  for  an  instant  utter 
stillness  upon  air  and  earth  and  water. 
And  then  Tom  groaned  painfully ;  and,  as 


112  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

Ned  bent  anxiously  over  him,  Stonewall 
Jackson  said :  — 

K I  shall  see  you  in  the  morning, 
Colonel."  And  Ned  thanked  him  once 
again;  and  the  noise  of  the  horses'  hoofs 
came  more  and  more  faintly,  and  at  last 
died  away  entirely. 

Then  Ned  knelt  down  beside  Tom,  and 
looked  steadily  at  him.  Tom  half  opened 
his  eyes,  and  then  closed  them  again  with 
a  weary  moan  that  went  to  Ned's  very 
heart.  "Don't  you  know  me,  Tom? "he 
said. 

"I  shall  see  my  mother  to-morrow," 
said  Tom,  "after  waiting  two  years.  I 
couldn't  go  before,  —  I  couldn't  leave  Ned 
when  he  was  sick." 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         113 

Ned  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and 
groaned.  Tom  closed  his  eyes  again,  and 
seemed  to  pass  into  a  fitful  slumber.  The 
men  had  built  a  great  fire  a  little  way 
apart;  and  its  gleams  fell  upon  Tom's  face, 
just  as  the  firelight  had  done  in  the  Pro 
fessor's  room,  five  years  before,  when  Ned 
first  met  him.  How  well  he  remembered 
that  night!  He  laid  his  hand  on  Tom's 
hot  brow,  and  smoothed  back  his  tangled 
hair.  How  lovely  his  face  was  in  this  fit 
ful,  ruddy  glow!  How  much  he  had  sac 
rificed  for  Ned,  and  now  Ned  had  ruined 
him!  It  was  dreadful  to  Ned.  He  threw 
himself  on  the  grass  beside  Tom,  and  put 
his  face  on  Tom's  shoulder. 

"  I  am  going  to  cut  recitation  to-day," 


114  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

muttered  Tom.  "Hang  that  old  Ned! 
He  is  always  vexed  about  something  or 
other.  I'm  going  to  enlist,  mother;  I 
must,  you  see,  —  oh,  I  must,  I  must,  I 
must !  Good-by ! " 

"Oh,  don't,  Tom!  "  groaned  Ned. 

And  then  Tom  sat  up,  and  gazed  wildly 
and  vacantly  at  Ned,  without  a  trace  of 
recognition  in  his  face. 

:?  Why,  Professor,"  said  he.  "  I  couldn't 
leave  Ned  possibly!  "We've  been  through 
everything  together;  and  he  might  not 
be  cared  for  properly,  if  I  were  to  leave 
him  sick  and  alone.  Mother  says  that  I 
am  right;  and  I  shall  see  her  to-morrow, — 
I  shall  see  her  to-morrow." 

"It  is  as  I  feared,"  said  Ned,  half  to 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         115 

himself;  "  he  is  in  a  high  fever.  If  I  can 
only  get  him  down  to  the  river-bank  there, 
where  I  can  bathe  his  head." 

And,  putting  Tom's  limp  arm  around 
his  own  neck,  Ned  managed  with  some 
difficulty  to  carry  him  a  few  steps  to  the 
river's  brink. 

"  There,  Tom,"  he  said,  "I'll  bathe  your 
head  for  .you,  poor  fellow! " 

"Here  is  the  river,"  said  Tom;  "and  we 
are  going  to  see  mother  in  a  boat.  It's  a 
dangerous  thing,  Ned,  to  cross  on  that 
beam.  OBEY  ORDERS  !  And  now  it  is  too 
late,  too  late!  God  only  knows  whether  I 
shall  ever  see  my  mother  again."  And 
now,  as  Tom  became  quiet  once  more, 
Ned  sat  there,  and  bathed  his  head;  and 


116  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

the  river  continued  the  noise  of  its  rushing 
waters,  and  the  wavelets  splashed  gently 
upon  the  shore,  and  against  the  wooden 
sides  of  the  boat,  —  the  boat !  And  now 
for  the  -first  time  Ned  saw  the  means  of 
deliverance  within  his  power.  The  idea 
fairly  swept  over  his  mind.  To  put  Tom 
into  the  boat,  and  gain  the  other  side, 
would  be  the  work  of  a  few  moments  only : 
and  it  could  be  done;  for  the  rebel  squad 
was  dispersed  along  the  shore,  and  the 
one  man  who  sat  by  the  fire  a  few  yards 
off  seemed  fast  asleep.  But  then,  even 
as  the  thought  of  a  possibility  of  freedom 
for  Tom  made  him  exultant,  there  came 
the  recollection  of  his  parole.  He  still  sat 
by  Tom's  side,  and  mechanically  now 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  117 

smoothed  back  the  hair  from  his  forehead, 
and  as  mechanically  repeated  to  himself, 
"word  of  honor,  word  of  honorj  word  of 
honor,"  until  the  very  leaves  upon  the 
trees  seemed  to  rustle  in  rhythm  with  the 
cadence;  and  then,  with  this  dull,  heavy 
oppression  on  his  mind,  the  words  seemed 
to  turn  into  French  and  Latin  and  Greek, 
and  to  make  new  and  fantastic  combina 
tions  in  his  brain.  "God  help  me!"  he 
groaned.  "I  am  going  mad.''  And  then 
he  knelt  and  prayed;  and  still  the  river 
rushed  along,  and  still  that  one  black 
figure  sat  there  by  the  fire,  as  if  half 
asleep.  Then  "Ned  saw  him  move  slow 
ly,  and  heard  him  whisper  hoarsely, 
"Colonel!  Colonel!" 


118  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

w  Do  you  mean  me?  "  asked  Ned. 

'Yes.  Speak  softer,  and  come  up 
here." 

Wondering  and  confused,  Ned  obeyed. 
The  man  turned  a  rough,  unshaven  face 
to  him,  and  said :  — 

'*  You  don't  know  me,  I  see?  " 

"No,"  said  Ned. 

"I  know  you,  though.  Mighty  peart 
you  be  now;  but  you  wasn't  so  three 
weeks  ago.  You  was  took  pretty  sick 
then,  and  lying  in  a  hospittle." 

«  Well,  what  of  it?  "  said  Ned. 

:?Well,  you're  a  stoutish  kind  of  man 
now,  aint  you?  But,  Lord!  "  and  the  fel 
low  laughed  to  himself,  "I  could  just 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         119 

chaw  you  up  in  no  time.     I  should  kinder 
like  to  have  a  gouge  at  you,  anyway." 

«  Thank  you,"  said  Ned;  "  but  if  that  is 
all  you  have  to  say,  I  shall  have  to  leave 
you,  and  attend  to  my  friend." 

T  You're  a  real  perlite  man,"  said  the 
man,  in  a  wondering  sort  of  way;  "  and  yet 
you're  a  Yank.  You  must  attend  to  your 
friend.  That's  fair;  and  why?  Because 
when  you  was  sick,  he  took  care  of  you. 
I  see  it;  I  was  in  the  hospittle  likewise  at 
the  time.  I  had  just  got  up  as  you  was 
took  down.  Don't  yer  remember  me? " 

w  No,"  said  Ned,  impatiently. 

:t  Well,  you  give  me  some  fruit  and  jelly 
that  was  sent  me  one  day.  I  never  had 
such  a  good  time  in  my  life  as  eating  them 


120  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

things.  The  nurse,  she  says,  f  Don't 
waste  'em  on  him ;  he's  a  rebel,'  she  says ; 
and  what  did  you  say?  You  says,  '  Don't 
let's  think  nothing  about  Eebs  and  Feds 
here,'  says  you,  ?  but  let's  forget  all  about 
it  j  and  then  I  liked  you.  I  like  you  now." 

"I am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  ]^"ed;  "but 
I  must  see  to  my  friend." 

•"  You  care  for  him  about  as  you  would 
for  a  gal,  don't  you?"  said  this  Virginia 
barbarian  then.  ''"Well,  he's  pootier  than 
any  gal  I  ever  see  anywhar.  Look  here, 
this  is  jest  what  I  want  to  say  to  you.  Ef 
you  should  put  him  and  you  in  that  thar 
boat,  and  float  down  the  river,  you'd  come 
to  your  own  lines.  Ef  I  should  see  you 
do  it,  I'd  stop  you;  but  I'm  going  to  take 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  121 

a  snooze  by  the  fire  here,  for  I'm  powerful 
tired.  Ef  I  should  wake  up,  I  should  fire 
on  you,  ef  I  saw,  you;  and  so  would 
others.  But  I  can't  allus  aim  straight  in 
the  dark;  and,  whar  one  aims,  others  is 
likely  to.  Now  I  have  done  you  a  good 
turn  for  what  you've  did  to  me;  and  ef 
ever  we  meet  again,  by  God,  I'll  kill  you." 

"But  I  can't  in  honor  escape,"  said 
Ned. 

"Of  course  you  can't,"  said  the  man; 
"and,  if  you  could,  of  course  you  wouldn't 
tell  me.  There,  I  don't  want  no  more  to  say 
to  you.  Just  git,  that's  all  you've  got  to  do." 

Ned  went  back  full  of  this  new  tempta 
tion.  The  other  pickets  were  dispv-rsed, 
the  river  rolled  on  invitingly,  and  Tom 


122  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

seemed  to  be  sleeping  more  quietly  than 
before. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  get  him  exchanged  in 
the  morning,"  said  Ned, "  since  he's  so  ill. 
I  am  glad  that  he  is  sleeping." 

Just  at  this  moment,  Tom  awoke  hur 
riedly,  and  looked  about  him  wildly  and 
vacantly,  then  fell  back  again. 

"  Oh,  if  Ned  were  only  here ! "  he 
groaned,  —  "  if  Ned  were  only  here !  " 

K  Ned  is  here,  Tom,  close  beside  you, 
as  always,"  said  Ned,  softly. 

"  If  Ned  were  here,"  muttered  Tom,  "  he 
would  help  me.  O  Ned,  Ned!  do  come, 
do  please  come  and  help  me  to  see  my 
mother ! " 

"  I  will,"  whispered  Ned,  solemnly.   Not 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         123 

an  instant  was  to  be  lost.  Without  daring 
to  think,  without  daring  to  look  around 
him,  then  he  lifted  Tom  and  laid  him  in 
the  boat.  The  keel  grated  on  the  pebbly 
shore.  He  started  nervously  and  turned; 
but  the  faithless  picket  was  laboriously 
sleeping.  In  an  instant  more  he  had 
thrown  off  his  outer  garments;  and,  with 
the  rope  of  the  boat  tied  around  his  fleck, 
he  half  swam,  half  drifted,  with  the  strong 
current  down  the  stream.  "Weak  from  his 
late  sickness,  and  the  excitement  and 
efforts  of  the  night,  his  swimming  soon 
exhausted  him;  and  he  clung  to  the  side 
of  the  boat,  and  drifted  with  it.  The  sky 
now  was  marked  with  black  cloud-rifts, 
that  made  strange  and  fantastic  octtlines 


124  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

on  its  luminous  background ;  and  the  white 
light  of  the  moon  was  growing  gray.  On 
each  side  of  him  he  saw  the  black  trees 
standing  in  groups,  now  dense,  now  scat 
tered,  along  the  shores;  while  ever  in  his 
ears  was  the  strange  murmur  of  the  tor 
rent,  broken  only  by  Tom's  incoherent 
muttering  as  he  lay  in  the  boat.  Then 
suddenly  came  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle; 
and  he  knew  that  his  escape  was  dis 
covered  at  last.  He  heard  the  bullets 
whistle  by  him,  then  one  grazed  the  side 
of  the  boat,  but  luckily  did  not  come  near 
Tom.  At  last  the  firing  ceased;  but  the 
boat  seemed  to  be  drifting  into  a  little 
cove.  He  made  one  desperate  effort  to 
push  her  more  into  the  main  current,  but 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  125 

in  vain;  for  his  strength  was  now  entirely 
gone.  Then  he  gave  one  cry,  as  he  saw 
the  first  faint  gleam  of  dawn  in  the  east, 
and  the  boat  struck  him,  bruised  and  faint 
ing,  against  the  shore.  He  crawled  feebly 
upon  the  bank,  the  rope  still  around  his 
neck;  and  then,  stunned  and  bruised,  all 
consciousness  forsook  him.  The  last 
thing  which  he  knew  was,  that  the  birds 
were  just  beginning  to  twitter  in  the 
trees. 

•         >•«•«•• 

When  he  awoke  it  was  later  in  the  day ; 
and  the  warm  light  and  air  of  the  forenoon 
was  streaming  into  his  tent.  An  orderly 
was  standing  by  the  entrance. 

?  Where  is  Tom?  "  he  asked  hoarsely. 


120  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

?  Tlie  captain  is  there ; "  and  the  orderly 

* 

pointed  to  the  other  side  of  the  tent,  where 
Ned  saw  a  figure  lying  muffled  in  coats 
and  blankets.  He  hardly  dared  to  ask 
what  he  dreaded  to  learn,  his  voice  seemed 
clogged  and  heavy  in  his  throat;  and 
finally,  when  he  did  speak,  it  was  in  a 
hoarse  and  tremulous  whisper :  — 

w  Is  he  dead?  " 

"Dead?"  said  the  orderly,  surprised; 
"  why,  no,  colonel !  But  he  is  dreadfully 
sick;  and  they  are  going  to  take  him  to 
the  hospital,  after  you  have  seen  him  and 
spoken  with  him." 

"  Go  outside,"  said  ISTed,  briefly,  "  and  let 
no  one  enter  under  any  pretext  whatever." 
And,  as  the  orderly  obeyed,  he  threw 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         127 

himself  down  beside  Tom,  who  was  sleep 
ing  restlessly  under  the  influence  ap 
parently  of  some  opiate. 

He  looked  at  him,  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  forehead,  and  then  bent  over  and  kissed 
his  hot  face. 

K  Tom,"  he  said.  But  there  was  no 
answer,  no  movement.  "I  have  come  to 
bid  you  good-by,  Tom,"  he  said;  "lam 
going  back  to  deliver  myself  up."  But 
still  Tom  slept,  and  groaned. 

"  ]STot  one  word  of  good-by,  Tom,"  said 
poor  Ned.  "  And  yet  this  is  the  last  time  — • 
the  very  last  time  —  God  help  me !  —  that 
we  shall  see  each  other,  that  I  shall  see 
you.  O  my  darling,  my  darling,  my  dar 
ling  !  please  hear  me.  The  only  one  I  have 


128  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

ever  loved  at  all,  the  only  one  who  has 
ever  loved  me.  The  last  words  that  you 
heard  from  me  were  those  of  anger  and 
impatience,  and  now,  poor  fellow!  you 
cannot  speak  even  to  say  good-by.  Hear 
me  say  it.  "When  you  get  well  again, 
have  some  memory  of  my  bending  over 
you  and  saying  it,  and  telling  you  that  I 
was  saying  good-by,  good-by,  good-by! 
O  Tom,  my  darling!  don't  forget  it.  If 
you  knew  how  I  love  you,  how  I  have 
loved  you  in  all  my  jealous,  morbid  moods, 
in  all  my  exacting  selfishness,  —  O  Tom ! 
my  darling,  my  darling !  can't  you  say  one 
word,  one  little  word  before  we  part,  — 
just  one  little  word,  if  it  were  only  my 
name?  Oh,  please,  please  speak  to  me! 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  129 

Don't  you  remember  when  we  were  ex 
amined  for  college  together?  You  sat 
across  the  hall.  I  saw  you  there;  and  I 
wanted  to  go  over  and  help  you.  And 
your  picture,  Tom,  that  we  quarrelled 
about,  —  I  have  it  now,  Tom;  it  will  be 
with  me  when  they  bury  me.  Tom,  don't 
you  remember  that  picture?  -  It  was  the 
night  when  I  determined  to  go  to  war  that 
you  gave  me  that  picture;  it  was  just 
before  we  enlisted.  O  Tom!  why  did  I 
let  you  come  at  all?  You  will  see  your 

X 

mother,  Tom;  and  you  will  go  home  now, 
and  many,  and  be  happy,  and  forget  me. 
Oh,  no,  no,  no,  Tom!  you  won't  do  that; 
you  can't  do  that.  You  won't  forget  ^ed, 
darling;  he  was  something  to  you;  and 


130  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

you  were  all  the  world  to  him.  O  Tom ! 
Tom!  please  say  one  word  to  him."  lie 
stopped  and  was  silent.  Tom  only 
moaned  restlessly  in  his  sleep;  and  there 
seemed  to  be  a  painful  death-like  silence 
inside  the  tent,  while  outside  was  the 
bright  life  of  the  morning  and  the  busy 
murmur  of  the  camp. 

w  Ah,  well !  "  he  said,  "  it  is  better  so.  He 
would  not  let  me  go  if  he  were  conscious ; 
he  would  say  that  I  must  stay  with  him; 
and  that  cannot  be.  He  need  not  know 
that  I  am  dead,  as  I  shall  Jbe,  until  he  him 
self  is  well  once  again.  Good-by,  Tom! 
good-by!  and  God  bless  you  forever,  my 
darling ! " 

And.  calmly,  yet  with  a  dreadful  pang 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         131 

at  his  heart,  he  stooped,  and  once  more 
kissed  the  flushed  face  of  his  friend;  then 
quickly,  as  if  impelled  by  some  force  not 
his  own,  without  daring  to  look  backward, 
he  rushed  from  the  tent. 


132  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 


IX. 

THE   BEGINNING   OF   THE   END. 

"  The  morn  broke  in  upon  his  solemn  dream; 

And  still  with  steady  pulse  and  deepening  eye, 
'  Where  bugles  call,'  he  said,  '  and  rifles  gleam, 
I  follow  though  I  die.' " 

STONEWALL  JACKSON  sat  in  his  tent, 
writing  rapidly  on  a  rough  pine  table. 
There  was  in  the  man,  in  spite  of  his  old 
coat  stained  here  and  there  with  mud,  and 
his  awkwardness  of  position  and  figure, 
an  appearance  of  power,  —  power  con 
scious  and  self-sustaining.  At  a  first 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  133 

glance  he  seemed  an  old  Virginia  farmer; 
but  an  instant's  careful  scrutiny  showed, 
beneath  his  awkward  simplicity,  the  grace 
of  a  true  soldier,  while  the  slow,  hesitating 
speech  had  in  it  an  undertone  which  made 
it  evident  that  at  times  each  word  might 
be  charged  with  fire  and  eloquence  and 
life.  As  he  moved  one  hand  to  brush  back 
the  thinned  hair  on  his  temples,  this  hot 
afternoon,  a  staff-officer  entered  the  tent. 

WI  have  some  curious  news,  General," 
he  said. 

'What  is  it?"  asked  Jackson,  briefly; 
for  a  word  was  a  power  with  this  man, 
and  he  never  wasted  power. 

"The   prisoner   who   broke    his    parole 


134  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 

this  morning  has  returned  here,"  said  the 
officer. 

'  What !  "  exclaimed  Jackson,  w  has  he 
given  himself  up?" 

:c  Yes,  General ;  they  have  him  in  con 
finement,  and  he  has  asked  to  see  you." 

w  To  see  me,  lieutenant !  "  said  Stonewall 
Jackson.  "  That  will  make  no  difference. 
He  is  to  be  shot  at  sunrise." 

*Yery  well,  General;  "  and  the  lieuten 
ant  turned  to  depart. 

"  Stop  a  moment,  though,"  said  Jackson. 
"I  should  like  to  know  what  defence, 
what  excuse  he  has  to  offer.  Have  him 
brought  here." 

*  Very  well,  General.  But  he  is  to  be 
shot?  " 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         135 

"Certainly,  sir!" 

Jackson  laid  down  his  pen,  and  folded 
his  arms  before  him  on  the  rough  board 
which  served  him  as  a  writing-table.  He 
had  not  long  to  wait.  In  less  than  five 
minutes,  Ned  appeared,  guarded  by  two 
soldiers,  his  face  pale  but  determined.  He 
met  Stonewall  Jackson's  scrutinizing  look 
clearly  and  fearlessly,  yet  respectfully. 
?  You  may  withdraw,"  said  Jackson  to  the 

men.     "Now,   sir,    you  wish  to   see  me. 

• 
"What  have  you  to  say?" 

"  I  broke  my  parole  this  morning,"  said 
Ned. 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  said  Jackson ;  "  and, 
having  some  compunction  for  your  viola 
tion  of  honor,  you  have  tried  as  a 


136  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

manoeuvre  giving  yourself  up  again.  You 
have  made  a  mistake,  sir." 

"  It  is  just  because  I  knew  you  would 
*  misconstrue  my  motive  and  my  action  thus 
that  I  asked  to  see  you,"  said  Ned.  "I 
wish  to  explain." 

"  No  explanation  is  possible,  sir,"  cried 
Stonewall  Jackson;  "and  this  will  avail 
you  nothing." 

"  Oh  !  wait  a  moment,"  cried  Ned,  im 
petuously.  "Don't  deceive  yourself.  I 
know  wnat  I  am  doing;  I  knew  a  few 
hours  ago,  when  I  left  the  Union  lines, 
what  I  was  doing.  I  came  here  to  die,  — 
to  be  shot !  Do  you  hear,  —  to  be  shot ! 
I  broke  my  parole;  I  expected  no  mercy 
from  you, —  I  ask  for  none,  I  would  take 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  137 

none.  I  claim  only  my  right,  and  my  right 
is  death." 

"  Then  why  did  you  give  yourself  up,  if 
you  knew  death  must  be  your  fate?"  asked 
Jackson. 

"  Death  has  not  frightened  me  very 
much,"  said  Ned,  contemptuously. 

"There  is  something  about  you,"  said 
Stonewall  Jackson,  "which  makes  me 
wish  to  respect  you.  I  see  you  are  not  a 
coward." 

"  And  I  wish  you  to  see  that  I  am  not  a 
liar,"  answered  Ned.  "  I  gave  myself  up 

to  death;  and  I  wish  you  to  bear  witness, 

• 

that,  having  sinned,  I  accepted  the  pen 
alty." 


138  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

"But  why  sin?"  said  Stonewall  Jack 
son. 

WI  will  tell  you  why,"  said  Ned.  "I 
have  only  one  person  in  the  world  to  care 
for:  I  have  no  family,  no  relatives,  only 
this  one  friend.  He  was  all  the  world  to 
me,  and  I  was  something  to  him.  "When 
the  war  broke  out,  I  enlisted,  and  he  went 
with  me.  "We  have  been  side  by  side 
through  everything.  He  saved  my  life  in 
battle  at  the  risk  of  his  own;  and  a  few 
weeks  ago,  when  I  was  taken  sick  by 
fever,  and  he  had  a  leave  of  absence,  he 
gave  up  his  home,  lie  sacrificed  every 
thing,  to  watch  by  me.  Last  night  he  was 
taken  sick  while  with  the  party  at  the 
bridge,  when  in  another  day  he  would 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  139 

have  been  with  his  mother  at  "Washington. 
You  paroled  me.  I  was  left  there  with 
him,  and  he  raved  and  groaned  until  I 
could  bear  it  no  longer.  Every  word  he 
said  seemed  to  stab  me  to  the  heart. 
Then  I  saw  the  river  and  the  boat;  the 
men  were  scattered,  and  the  means  of  es 
cape  were  at  hand.  I  hesitated.  I 
thought  of  my  parole;  and  then  I  thought 
of  him  a  prisoner,  an  invalid,  a  corpse  per 
haps,  if  he  waited  here,  while  back  of  us 
his  mother  was  hastening  to  meet  her  only 
son.  He  had  given  up  so  much  for  me, 
and  what  had  I  done  for  him?  It  seemed 
as  if  I  must  get  him  away;  and  then  he 
cried  out  again,  '  Ned,  Ned,  won't  you  help 
me?'  And  I  said, ' Yes!'  And  I  knew 


140  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

that  yes  was  death  to  me.  Oh !  you  see 
I  am  prepared.  I  have  not  tried  to  arouse 
your  sympathy  or  your  compassion,  I  have 
only  told  you  the  bare  facts.  Do  you  think, 
if  I  hoped  for  life,  if  I  cared  for  pardon  from 
you,  that  I  could  not  say  more,  that  I 
could  not  pour  out  words  of  fire  and  blood 
to  show  you  what  our  friendship  is,  and 
what  last  night's  temptation  was?  I  ask 
no  mercy;  and  you  could  give  me  none  if 
you  wished  it :  my  act  must  bring  its  conse 
quences.  Only  I  wished  you  to  see  that  I 
was  neither  liar  nor  coward;  that,  having 
forfeited  my  life,  I  did  not  evade  the  pay 
ment  of  my  debt;  in  a  word,  that  I  was 
enough  of  a  gentleman  to  be  worthy  of 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  141 

the  great  privilege  of  serving  in  my  coun 
try's  cause." 

"  Sir,"  said  Jackson,  "  you  are  not  only 
a  gentleman,  but  a  soldier.  I  love  war  for 
itself,  I  glory  in  it;  but  it  saddens  me 
when  it  brings  with  it  the  useless  sacrifice 
of  such  a  life  as  yours." 

w  I  am  not  a  soldier,"  said  ISTed,  quietly. 
"I  hate  war;  I  hate  to  have  to  long  for  the 
death  of  such  a  .man  as  you  are.  But  I 
am  ready  for  all  that,  when  there  is  a 
cause  at  stake." 

w  A  cause  at  stake  !  "  said  Stonewall 
Jackson.  "  Well,  God  be  with  the  right ! " 

w  God    is   with  the   right,"   said    Ned ; 

• 
"and    time   will    show  us   which   is   the 


142  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

right.    Ah  !   if  I  could  live   to   see  that 
time!" 

"Be  thankful  rather,"  said  Jackson, 
"  that  you  are  going  to  die  before  you  find 
you  are  in  the  wrong.  I  wish  you  had 
been  with  me  in  this  campaign." 

w  If  it  had  been  possible,"  said  Ned,  and 
then  he  stopped. 

"  I  should  like,"  said  Stonewall  Jackson, 
slowly,  "though  doubtless  you  consider 
me  a  rebel  and  a  traitor,  to  have  you  shake 
hands  with  me." 

"Not  with  a  rebel  or  a  traitor,"  said 
Ned,  "  but  with  a  sincere  and  honest  man 
whom  I  respect  and  honor; "  and  with  this 
grasp  of  hands,  these  two  great  souls 
gazed  in  each  other's  eyes. 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         143 

w  And  now  you  know  what  I  must  say," 
said  Stonewall  Jackson. 

w  I  know  it,"  Ned  replied. 

"  Do  not  think  me  cruel,  do  not  think 
me  lacking  in  human  feeling,"  Stonewall 
Jackson  continued;  "but  war  has  its  du 
ties  as  well  as  peace.  God  help  .those 
who  must  execute  these  duties !  " 

"There  is  but  one  thing  you  can  do," 
said  Ned,  tranquilly. 

K  There  is  but  one  thing  I  can  do,"  re 
peated  Jackson.  'You  will  be  shot  at 
sunrise."  He  called  the  men  outside. 
"  Give  this  gentleman,"  he  said,  "  as  good 
accommodations  as  the  camp  affords.  See 
that  he  is  left  by  himself,  and  is  undis 
turbed  to-night.  —  All  letters,  all  direc- 


144  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

tions,  which  you  may  wish  to  give,  shall 
be  forwarded  to  the  North,"  he  continued, 
addressing  Ned;   "  and   if  you  wish  any 
thing  to  be  done-  about  burial "  — 
. w  I  shall  wish  nothing,"  said  Ned. 
"In    that    case,"    said     Jackson,    with 
princely   courtesy,   "  I  have   only  to   say 
farewell."    He  rose  again,  and  took  Ned's 
hand;   then  the   soldiers   marched   away, 
and  he  was  left  in  his  tent  alone. 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         145 


X. 

THE  LAST  LETTER   HOME. 

'DEAR  PROFESSOR,  —  I  am  writing  to 
you  the  last  words  I  shall  ever  say,  the 
last  thoughts  I  shall  jeyer  think,  the  last 
farewell  to  all  I  have  ever  known  and 
loved.  To-morrow,  at  daybreak,  I  am  to 
be  shot.  There  is  nothing  that  can  possi 
bly  prevent  it,  —  this  is  my  last  night  on 
earth.  Am  I  resigned  to  my  lot?  am  I 
willing  to  lose  my  life?  I  cannot  tell,  it 
seems  so  like  a  dream.  It  is  terrible  to 
me  to  think  that  this  is  the  end  of  all 
my  youth  and  hope;  and  you  will  uii- 


146         TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS. 

derstand  me  when  I  say  that  I  do  dread 
and  fear  death.  Yet  I  am  calm  and  self- 
possessed.  I  am  half  dead  already,  indeed, 
for  my  end  seems  inevitable;  and  I  do 
not  suffer  so  much  as  I  wonder.  I  seem 
to  have  lost  all  volition,  and,  as  it  were,  to 
have  gone  out  of  myself.  A  little  while 
ago  I  wound  up  my  watch;  and  then  the 
uselessness  of  that  performance  struck  me, 
and  I  said,  half  aloud,  "  Poor  IsTed  I "  and 
then  laughed  at  myself  for  doing  it.  As 
my  laugh  died  away,  there  was  a  cold  si 
lence  around  which  chilled  me  through 
and  through.  Yes,  I  must  be  half  dead 
already.  It  is  only  when  I  think  of  Tom 
that  the  life  seems  to  rush  back  again ;  and 
as  I  believe  this  sort  of  torpor  is  well  for 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  147 

me,  I  dare  not  trust  to  myself  write  to  him. 
Besides,  he  must  get  well;  and  so  you 
must  try  and  keep  my  death  hidden  from 
him  for  a  time.  You  can  tell  him,  better 
than  I  could,  that  my  last  thought  will  be 
of  him,  and  that  I  cannot  trust  myself  to 
say  farewell  to  him.  Even  now,  I  have  this 
cruel  uncertainty  about  his  health,  and  I  do 
not  know  but  what  you  may  lose  us  both. 
Stonewall  Jackson  is  a  hero.  I  never 
thought  that  I  could  say  that  of  any  rebel, 
but  I  am  glad  that  I  have  known  him.  lie 
will  work  us  more  terrible  injury,  I  fear; 
but  I  am  sure  that  he  will  not  live  long. 
The  excitement  of  this  war  is  killing  him; 
and  here,  when  I  so  thoroughly  admire 
him,  I  have  to  rejoice  that  he  is  doomed. 


148  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

How  strange  war  is, —  stranger  and 
stranger  now  than  ever!  Oh!  if  I  could 
only  see  the  end,  —  if  I  could  only  know 
whether  we  shall  gain  our  country  by  all 
this  blood,  and  if  Tom  will  live,  I  could 
die  perfectly  contented.  There  is  Tom 
again,  you  see.  I  have  to  think  of  him  in 
spite  of  myself.  "When  you  tell  him  my 
story,  you  can  give  him  this  letter,  if  he 
wants  it,  as  perhaps  he  will. 

And  now  good-by  for  yourself.  It  is  not 
well  for  me  to  write,  —  it  brings  me  back 
to  life  too  much;  but  I  cannot  die  without 
telling  you  something  of  my  feeling  for 
you.  Do  you  think  that  I  have  not  fully 
appreciated  all  your  sympathy,  all  your 
kindness,  all  the  wealth  of  intellect  and 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.         149 

culture  which  you  have  laid  before  me?  I 
always  have  had  a  sort  of  hope,  that  some 
time,  when  I  should  win  some  great  honor, 
and  the  world  should  applaud,  I  could  say, 
"Look  here;  here  is  the  man  to  whom  I 
owe  all  this;  here  is  the  man  who  advised 
me,  who  guided  me;  the  man  with  the 
strong  soul  and  the  woman's  tenderness, 
who  loved  youth  and  beauty,  and  sympa 
thized  with  sorrow.  You  take  off  your 
hats  to  me;  but  I  kneel  before  him."  But 
all  that  is  over  now,  and  you  have  only  a 
numb  good-by  from  a  man  who  is  to  be 
shot  in  a  few  hours. 

My  body  will  not  be  sent  North.  "When 
I  am  dead,  I  am  dead;  and  here  or  there, 
it  matters  not  where  it  is  buried,  to  me  nor 


150  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

to  any  one  else.  But  if  you  ever  want  to 
think  of  me,  and  to  feel  that  I  am  near, 
walk  through  the  yard  at  Harvard,  over 
by  Holworthy,  in  the  lovely  evenings  of 
the  spring  weather.  It  was  at  such 
a  season,  and  at  such  a  time,  that 
I  last  saw  the  dear  •  old  place;  and, 
if  I  ever  can  be  anywhere  on  earth 
again,  it  is  there  that  I  should  choose  to 
be.  Ah,  if  I  could  only  see  Harvard  once 
again !  God  bless  it  forever  and  forever ! 
I  wonder  how  many  visions  of  its  elm-trees 
have  swept  before  dying  eyes  here  in 
"Virginia  battle-fields  ! 

Ah,  well !  there  is  only  good-by  to  say 
once  more.  When  he  asks  for  me,  tell 
him  that  I  constantly  think  of  him,  that  I 


TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS.  151 

am  well  and  happy.  Don't  let  him  know 
the  truth  until  he  is  clearly  out  of  danger, 
and  then  tell  him  all.  It  is  not  so  very 
hard  to  bear;  and  I  am  sure  now  that  I 
shall  never  be  forgotten  by  him,  and  that 
nothing  can  ever  come  between  us  now. 
Tell  him  the  only  thing,  after  God,  worth 
living  for  and  worth  dying  for,  is  our 
country,  —  our  noble  country.  Oh!  she 
must  be  strong  and  glorious  and  united, 
at  any  cost.  I  feel  it  and  I  know  it.  And 
now  good-by,  once  more  and  forever. 

•  •  *          *     *  *  *  *  * 

He  sealed  and  directed  the  letter;  then, 
throwing  himself  on  the  blanket  in  the 
corner  of  the  tent,  fell  into  a  deep,  re 
freshing  slumber.  He  woke  to  feel  the 


152  TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

grasp  of  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  to  see 
a  file  of  men  beside  him.  Without  a  word 
he  rose  and  went  with  them.  They  led 
him  out  a  little  from  the  camp,  where  it 
seemed  quiet.  He  saw  them  stand  before 
him;  he  heard  one  preliminary  order  given, 
and  caught  the  flash  of  rifle-barrels  in  the 
early  morning  sunlight.  Then  there  was 
a  noise  and  disturbance  in  the  camp  be 
yond,  and  a  voice  cried  out:  — 
"It's  an  attack  by  the  Federals!  " 
!N"ed  turned  involuntarily.  And  with 
these  words,  in  one  great  sweeping  flood, 
his  life  came  back.  No  more  numbness, 
no  more  indifference;  but,  in  that  one 
instant,  every  drop  of  blood  in  his  veins 
seemed  charged  with  electric  power,  and 


TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  153 

the  morning  air  was  like  nectar.  He  stood 
there,  strong,  like*  a  man;  and  then  there 
was  one  report,  and  he  fell  dead,- — dead 
in  the  dust  of  the  Virginia  soil. 


154  TWO    COLLEGE    FRIENDS. 


XL 

AFTERWARDS. 

THIS  is  the  one  picture  that  has  been 
ever  before  my.  eyes,  even  in  the  wild 
regions  of  Nevada  and  the  undulating 
lawns  and  woody  slopes  of  California.  In 
the  snow-clad  forests  of  the  Sierra  Neva 
da,  and  even  in  the  tropical  glory  of  sky 
and  air  in  Arizona,  amid  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  the  camp,  with  heavenly  peace 
and  loveliness  above,  and  murderous 
savages,  thirsting  for  our  blood  lying  in 
deadly  ambush  all  around,  I  still  have 
seen  this  picture.  A  dead  man  lying  with 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  155 

his  face  to  the  earth;  while  close  by  his 
side  one  little  spot  of  dust  seems  blackened 
and  congealed  by  blood. 

And  afterwards?  The  sunshine  steals 
softly  and  furtively  through  the  darkened 
windows  of  a  happy  Northern  home.  It 
is  June,  and  the  perfume  of  the  roses  is 
on  the  air.  In  an  easy-chair  half  sits,  half 
reclines,  a  pale  girl,  with  a  happy  face, 
looking  down  with  a  perfect  smile  at  Tom, 
who  sits  at  her  feet.  And  near  by  stands 
a  nurse,  holding  in  her  arms  a«baby,  —  a 
baby  whose  two  gelatinous  arms  beat  the 
air  wildly,  while  his  voice  is  raised  in  a 
shrill  note,  which  may  be  triumph  or  which 
may  be  agony. 

"By  Jove! "  Tom  says  admiringly,  "his 


156  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

high  notes  are  stunning;  ar'n't  they, 
Nettie?" 

'Torn,"  replies  Nettie,  threateningly, 
"  dare  to  make  fun  of  your  offspring  again, 
and  we  will  leave  you,  and  start  for  In 
diana.  "Won't  we,  Baby?" 

To  this  question,  reply  is  given  by  an 
absurd  inclination  of  the  head  on  one 
side  and  another  wheezy  shriek. 

"  I  am  not  laughing,  I  am  not  laughing," 
Tom  hastens  to  remark,  lest  the  threat  of 
Indiana  should  be  repeated;  "so  don't  get 
angry,  Baby.  I  say,  Nettie,  we  must  have 
a  name  for  him.  "We  can't  call  him  Baby 
all  the  time,  you  know." 

"  He  was  named  long  ago,  Tom,"  said 
Nettie,  "  though  of  course  I  had  to  wait. 


TWO    COLLEGE   FRIENDS.  157 

"We  must  call  him  < Ned;'  we  couldn't  call 
him  by  any  other  name." 

*  Thank  you,  darling,"  said  Tom, 
gravely;  "that  is  the  way  you  make  me 

V 

love  you  more  and  more  every  day."  And 
he  kisses  his  wife,  and,  rising,  takes  the 
baby  and  looks  on  its  face,  while  his  eyes 
are  filled  with  tears. 

And  afterwards?  The  Professor's  room 
at  Harvard  is  still  as  it  was  when  we  first 
knew  it,  with  the  photograph  still  hanging 
over  the  mantel-piece.  And  the  Pro 
fessor  sits  there  gazing  at  it  more  lonely 
now  than  ever  before.  He  is  growing 
quite  old;  he  is  vevy  sarcastic  and  aston 
ishing;  and  dreadful  stories  are  current 


158         TWO  COLLEGE  FKIENDS. 

among  the  students  in  regard  to  his 
severity  against  culprits  in  the  meetings 
of  the  Faculty.  There  are  two  or  three 
who  know  him,  and  to  whom  he  is  very 
kind.  They  heard  him  tell  the  story  of 
his  boys,  and  they  heard  poor  Ned's  last 
letter.  But  the  Professor  declared  then 
that  he  should  never  speak  of  the  subject 
again;  and  the  few  who  heard  him  saw 
that  the  rest  of  his  life  must  be  sad.  And 
now,  as  he  takes  up  the  notes  and  emen 
dations  of  his  old  lecture  on  "  Domestic 
Arts,"  whose  turn  has  come  again,  his  eye 
falls  on  the  picture.  Again  it  is  the 
spring  weather,  again  -the  fresh  breeze 
enters  his  room.  He  rises  and  walks  to 
the  window. 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.          159 

"  I  wonder  if  he  is  near,"  he  says,  half 
aloud.  :  r  It  was  in  such  a  "season  and  at 
such  a  time,  that  I  last  saw  the  dear  old 
place;  and,  if  ever  I  can  be  on  earth  again, 
it  is  there  that  I  should  wish  to  be.'  Poor 
Ned!  Poor  Ned!" 

And,  as  he  sits  in  his  chair  again,  the 
picture  fades  from  my  view,  and  I  see  only 
the  moonlight  on  eur  mountain  camp,  and 
hear  the  wailing  of  the  western  wind. 

And  afterwards?  Once  more  the 
country  is  intact,  freed  from  the  deadly 
perils  which  assailed  her.  "We  know  now 
what  the  words  "  our  country  "  mean,  — 
rocks  which  the  Atlantic  lashes  with  its 
spray;  broad  uplands  and  vast  prairies 
where  almost  spontaneously  fruit  and 


160  TWO   COLLEGE   FRIENDS. 

grain  seem  to  spring  forth  from  the  rich 
soil;  and  barren  hills  as  well,  with  only 
the  sage-brush  for  vegetation,  within  whose 
secret  treasure-houses  lie  great  masses  of 
gold  and  silver  ore.  From  the  summits 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada  you  can  stand  at 
midsummer  in  a  forest  where  wreaths  of 
snow  lie  on  the  trees,  and  can  gaze  far 
down  into  valleys,  thousands  of  feet  be 
neath,  where  there  are  rippling  streamlets, 
and  masses  of  flowers  of  the  most  brilliant 
and  the  most  delicate  hues.  This  wonder 
ful  country,  that  is  still  in  its  infancy,  that 
is  nursing  men  of  every  nation  to  form  a 
new  nation;  this  country,  that,  with  all  its 
imperfections,  stands  now  on  the  grand 
basis  of  universal  freedom,  — justifies  not 


TWO  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.          161 

merely  enthusiasm,  but  any  loss  of  human 
life  which  may  aid  in  its  preservation. 
These  friends,  these  brothers,  knew  what 
was  the  true  meaning  of  life,  and  with 
that  knowledge,  gained  by  zeal  and  study, 
offered  their  lives  as  a  sacrifice.  Woe  to 
our  country  should  the  great  debt  owed 
to  these  heroes  be  ever  forgotten! 

"  May  God  forbid  that  yet, 

Or  in  all  time  to  come,  we  should  their  names  forget ! 
May  every  spring-time's  hours 
See  their  graves  strewn  with  flowers, 

To  show  that  still  remembered  is  our  debt !  " 


REC'DYRL  HAR06D0 


L9-32 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000024855    9 


